Lane Assignments
by KatyJane75
Summary: How close can you get to the line without crossing into forbidden territory? A coach and his star athlete navigate life's twists, turns, and temptations.
1. Prologue

_**Is it just mutual respect… or is it a crush?**_

 **Runners, stay in your lanes until the end of the first turn. Any departure from your assigned lane will result in disqualification from the race.**

 **Runners ready?**

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Prologue/ Teaser - Bellevue High School - May 2017**

 **CPOV**

I take a swig of thick, foul-tasting coffee and grimace. _Why am I drinking this sludge?_ I sigh and lean back on the ratty office chair in the stifling press box. This press box, and the expansive aluminum bleachers below it, were clearly designed for football season.

Now, in the stifling temperatures of early May, it's hot and depressing. Only small clumps of people dot the bleachers. It's the last track meet of the regular season - our Bellevue Lady Wolverines versus the Lakeside High School Lions - before the larger, postseason competitions begin.

I see a small figure make her way in from the parking lot and up into the stands. Now _she_ is a sight for sore eyes. The way her toned body moves - with her chestnut ponytail is swinging over her lovely ass - I can tell she's a runner.

I pull my eyes away from her and watch as our first-year coach, Ty Bennett, tries to run the meet. Nothing is set up correctly and no one is where they need to be. The athletes are supposed to be lining up for the first event, the 4x800 relay, but he is directing people to set up the 100 meter hurdles. _You can't run the relay with hurdles in the home stretch, you useless prick._ Thank goodness he's taken another job for the Fall, coaching his true love - football - at a high school in Olympia. But, it leaves us with holes to fill - again - in girls' track and in the English department.

I never would have let this happen while I was coaching girls' track at Montesano. I took pride in running efficient practices and smooth meets. This is my first year as the _Athletics and Activities Director_ at Bellevue High School and, professionally, it's a huge step up from coaching and teaching. But, some days, I miss the direct contact with the student athletes and the control that I had over situations like this.

 _This fool is making a joke of our team and I swear -_

"Just hold on… she's here." Cal grabs my arm to keep me from storming out of this press-box and down to the track. "I'll sort Ty out and you can go say hello to her."

"Who?" I snarl.

"Our savior," he says proudly, pointing toward the small brunette. She now leaning forward, elbows on her knees, intently watching the activity on the track. "My gift to you."

I'm not sure why, but my senses are overloaded… on high alert. _Why?_ I manage to pull my eyes away from her and look at him. I ask, in a slightly nicer tone, "Who is she?"

He smirks at me. "THAT is our new recruit. She's my top pick for the coaching job and she's got her teaching certification with an emphasis in English lit. She has a stellar running career and -"

I cut him off. "You interviewed her without informing me? I should have been -"

Now he's the one to interrupt. "You'll see. Go on… I don't think she'll bite."

I shake my head and head out of the press-box, carefully making my way down and across the bleachers to her, with my bum knee popping and complaining the whole way.

When I'm within several feet of her, I call out, "Hello there! I'm Christian Grey, the athletic director, but everyone calls me 'Coa-'"

The last word gets stuck in my throat as she turns, removing her sunglasses. I'm met with sky blue eyes and a wide smile, a lovely face that I'd given up hope of ever seeing again.

 _Ana._

"Coach!" she squeals, and then she's up and in my arms. _My girl._

 **=/=/=/=**

 **A/N: Welcome to my all-new story! I was going to wait 'til the new year, but I'm no good at being patient. It's still very much a work in progress, but I am sharing this prologue/ teaser in celebration of completing the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) challenge of writing 50,0000 words! About 45,000 of those words are for this story, and I can't wait to share it with all of you. Hoping to have the first full-length chapter up next week!**

 **I am going to be more active on FaceBook this time around, posting photos and teasers. So... make sure to friend me if you want the goodies!** **www. facebook . katy. jane. 758737 (Remove the spaces to get the link!)**


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

 _ **Nearly eight years earlier...**_

 **7/30/09**

 **Kate: So how's the new fancy-pants neighborhood in Dallas?**

 _ **Ana: Nice, but it's not home. I miss you and I miss my room.**_

 **Is your new room nice?**

 _ **Yeah it's bigger, and it has a window seat.**_

 **That's cool. Hey, give it some time. You'll settle in.**

 **=/=/=/=**

 **9/7/09**

 **Kate: Weird to start school without you tomorrow.**

 _ **Ana: We don't start til next week. New school, new people (sigh).**_

 **How's it going? Met anyone there?**

 _ **OK. #3 is giving me the creeps, tho.**_

 **?**

 _ **He stands too close, he has bad breath.**_

 **And…**

 _ **He's always watching me. Like he's checking me out.**_

 **Creeper! Ana, are you okay? You should tell your mom. Or Ray. Are you afraid he will try something?**

 _ **I'm OK. Have a good first day at school.**_

 _ **=/=/=/=**_

 **3/11/10**

 _ **Ana: Ray is coming to get me. I am coming home.**_

 **Kate: WHAT HAPPENED?**

 _ **Ana: I'll tell you when I get there.**_

 **Kate: Where are you? Are you safe?**

 _ **Ana: Hospital. Yes.**_

 **Kate: ? OMG**

 _ **Ana: I'll talk to you later. Promise. xo**_

 **Kate: xo**

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Sunday, March 14, 2010**

 **APOV**

It feels so good to be back in my bed, in my old room with my books and stuffed animals and little-girl bedding. I'm home where I belong. And I am never, _never_ leaving here again.

"Annie?" My dad knocks softly on my door.

"Come in."

Ray opens the door and sticks his head in. "Are you in bed already? It's only 8:30."

"No… I'm just resting. And it's comfy here." I'm all tucked in, lying on my side with my knees pulled up to my chest.

"Kate's here to see you."

"Kate! Come in!" I squeal, popping up into a sitting position.

Ray moves aside and my best friend comes in. She's not her usual blonde ball of energy, though. She looks wary as she closes the door slowly and comes over to perch on the edge of my bed. I open my arms to Kate and pull her in for a hug.

"Ana…" she whispers. "Are you…"

"Kate, don't… I'm okay now. I'm glad to be home."

"What happened? Did he… _you know_."

I pull back, looking into her green eyes. They swimming with tears, but she looks determined. She wants the truth, not the glossed-over version of things.

"Yeah, he did. My mom was out with friends… and he came in after I went to bed and he -" I shake my head. "Anyway… my mom came home just as he was - um, _finishing_ \- and caught him in the act."

Kate's eyes are wide. "Oh Ana…"

"So he had insisted that my mom have a concealed carry permit, and he bought her a little pink handgun." I can't help the smile that is spreading across my face as I tell this part. "So she grabbed out that gun and held it to his stupid, fat head. And I ran downstairs and called the police.

Kate snorts with laughter at this. _Thank goodness…_

"They arrested him and took me to the hospital. And then my dad came and picked me up."

"But what if you're… _you know_."

I shake my head. "No, Kate, I'm not going to get pregnant. They gave me the - _you know_ \- morning-after pill."

Kate gives me another hug, and then we settle back on my bed for a nice, long chat. I'm thankful for Kate's chatter and I'm feeling relaxed and sleepy as she talks.

"... and at least it's spring break, so you have a week to settle in before school."

"Yeah… but what'll I say about being back?"

"Just say you missed your dad and good ol' Montesano too much. That Dallas was _lame_."

I giggle. Kate always knows what to say.

"Just stick with me, Steele. I've got your back. Oh… and we have a new English teacher - Mr. Grey - and he's _hot_. He's got a wedding ring tho," she says, looking a little wistful.

"Kate! Oh my God…"

She laughs and flips her hair. "Anyway, he'll be the new track coach too. Ooh! You should come out for track."

"I dunno, Kate… You know me and sports… we don't get along."

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Monday March 22, 2010**

 **CPOV**

"All right, ladies, listen up. I'm Coach Grey and most of you already know me from English class. This is my first year coaching girls' track here at Montesano, but I coached for two years in Detroit. I want to see good attendance, positive attitudes, and hard work. The rest of it will fall into place. Seniors, stretch them out and lead two warm-up laps. And… GO BULLDOGS!"

"GO BULLDOGS!" The girls echo, and then they break away from where we've gathered at the side of the track, off to stretch on the pad by the high jump.

Kate Kavanagh, one of my juniors, hangs back, wanting to say something to me. She's in my honors literature class, and she's one of those kids who has everything going for her. Looks, money, brains… and a good attitude. She's popular, and she can be a flirt, but she has a good heart. Proof of her caring nature is tagging along behind her, quite literally in her shadow.

"Coach Grey? This is Ana Steele. She went here until last year? And this is her first day… back. Um, she wanted to try track today?"

"Thank you, Kate," I say. "Go stretch and let me talk to… Ana, is it?"

Kate gives the girl's shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and jogs over to join the others. Now she's out of Kate's shadow, I have a better view of her. She's slender, with a long chestnut ponytail thrown over her shoulder. She's looking down at her feet, which are in black Chucks.

"Ana, is it?" I repeat. "Welcome to the track… I'm Coach Grey. I don't think I have seen you in any of my classes?"

She finally looks up at me, and her eyes are clear blue - and they look too large for her small face. Her expression is unsure, and she sinks her teeth into her lower lip, looking like she's not sure if she truly wants to be here. "Yeah… Ana Steele. Um, I just moved back from Dallas? I only came in for a little while today, to get my schedule and books… I'm in honors literature too. With Kate?"

I nod. So she's friends with Kavanagh and smart too. I can work with this. "So have you ever run track before?"

She looks down at herself - plain white t-shirt, jeans, and her Chucks - and gives a nervous little laugh. "Um… no. Sports and I don't get along… but Kate…"

"But Kate can be pretty... tenacious?"

"Yup," she says.

"Okay, why don't you go join the others and we'll see how it goes today, all right?"

She gives me a little smile and a nod, then scurries off, back to Kate's side.

 **APOV**

I join the group just as they're finishing up, so Kate guides me through some quick calf and hamstring stretches. And then we head to the start, lining up at the back of the pack.

"This thing looks bigger from down here," I say. "How many times do we go around? And how far is it, like a mile?"

Kate laughs. "We're going around twice, and it's a quarter-mile each lap. So it's a half-mile warm up."

 _Only a quarter-mile around_ … it looks much farther than that. But, I promised Kate - and myself - and now Coach Grey that I would give it a try today. He's standing at the starting line as we approach, his intense gray eyes on me. He gives me a little nod of encouragement, and I line up with the others.

The warm-up laps aren't too bad. About halfway around, I can feel my breathing get a little heavy, and my limbs feel awkward, but by the end of the first lap, I feel okay. What would a runner say? _I'm starting to hit my stride._

We finish the warm-up and my lungs are burning a little, but it feels… _good_. I feel alive. And maybe better than I've felt in the eleven days since _it_ happened.

After the warm up, Kate peels off to go with the rest of the sprinters. I start to follow her, but hold back when I see them all together. Like Kate, they all have compact and shapely builds, muscles rippling as they pull out starting blocks and get ready for their drills.

 _Hmmm… I'm not sure… I'm definitely not built like a sprinter. In fact, I'm not really built at all. Anywhere._

"Ana, why don't you go with the middle-distance runners today?" Coach Grey calls out as he comes up behind me and leads me over to a group of about a dozen runners. "Collins?... Monroe?... This is Ana Steele. She's new today and I'd like for her to start in your group."

The two girls, who must be the seniors in charge, are standing apart from the rest and consulting a clipboard. One of them, a tall girl with red, wavy hair, waves me over.

She addresses the group. "Okay, listen up. I'm Bridget Collins and this is Jenna Monroe. We'll be leading the middle-distance workouts. Today we're doing pyramids -"

Several of the girls groan, cutting Bridget off. _Uh oh, what the heck are pyramids?_

"Come on ladies, it's not that bad… and you should've been running over the winter to stay conditioned?" She raises an eyebrow and scans the group. A couple are smiling, looking confident, but most of them look a little guilty. "Hmmm… okay. So we're doing a 200, a 400, an 800… and back down. Walk 200 meters in between each. Two repeats. Everyone got it?"

I quickly do the math… _Math is my second-strongest subject._ Two… four… eight… four… two… times two. That's two and a half miles total. Plus the walking breaks. _Oh God… what have I gotten myself into?_

By the time I have done the math, we are stepping onto the track. I tuck into the rear of the pack, behind some young-looking girls who must be freshmen. I am a little relieved that they look as frightened as I feel.

Bridget and Jenna are at the front and they set the pace for the first 200 meters. It's only halfway around the track, and it's not a sprint, so we stay tightly bunched and finish in the same order at the end of the backstretch. As we walk back around to the starting line, most of the girls are chatting with one another.

I pass by Kate as we start up the homestretch, and give her a little wave. She waves back and cocks her head toward the rest of the group. ' _Go get 'em girl!'_ she seems to say.

As soon as we are all clustered back at the starting line, Bridget yells "Go!" and we are off again, starting on the first of the 400 meter repeats… a full lap. I stay in the back again, but I don't fall behind, and I can hear some of the other girls starting to wheeze. And then a few slow down and fall back. I slip past two them… and then a couple more. Like before, my lungs are burning… and I welcome the feeling. It's _life-affirming._

We continue up the pyramid to the 800, then start back down the other side. With each run, I work my way further and further up the pack. By the time we reach the 800 of the second pyramid, I am right behind Bridget and Jenna. I don't think I have changed my speed - I think the two seniors are setting an even pace - but some of the others are definitely on the struggle bus.

We finish up our work-out and I hold my place. _Whew! I have officially survived my first track practice!_

Bridget is grinning and walks over once we have all taken a minute to catch our breath. "Well done, Steele… you sure you've never run track before?"

"Never," I say, gesturing down at myself. "Can't you tell?" All of the other girls are wearing running shoes, nylon shorts, and colorful athletic tees or singlets.

She laughs. "Well if you're here to stay, better get yourself some proper gear."

"Definitely," I say. And I mean it.

We jog two cool-down laps, and I catch Coach Grey's eyes on me again. _Not bad for my first day, huh?_

As we're rounding the last lap into the home stretch, I see a young woman with darl blonde hair coming through the gate to the track. She looks like a businesswoman, in a dark gray blazer and pencil skirt.

We finish up our cool-down, and when I turn back, the woman is standing with Coach Grey. He's smiling and has his arm wrapped around her… _Hmm._ I feel a little pang in my gut. I mean, I know he's married and he's probably like thirty. But - Kate was right - he's a _hottie_. And I'm allowed to have a little crush, right? _A teeny-tiny, little crush?_

"All right ladies… good first practice," calls out Coach Grey. "If you haven't done your cool-down, please do so after this. I'd like to introduce you to my wife, Natalie Grey." The woman smiles at us, and she's friendly-looking with a smattering of freckles and twinkling, hazel eyes. "Like I said, this is my third year coaching. But before that, I ran track and cross-country throughout school and college, so I've been where you are. My wife is also a runner, and we have done three marathons and many other races together through the years. We share a lifetime goal of running a marathon in all fifty states."

 _Wow… these two are running fools!_

"Natalie will be out here with us at times as a volunteer, for track meets and other events. Please help me in making her feel welcome. And… GO BULLDOGS!"

"GO BULLDOGS!" We echo. _And for the first time ever, I am part of a team. An honest-to-God sports team. Me. Go figure!_

"Ana!" I hear Coach Grey call as we're dispersing.

I turn to look at him, and he still has his arm around his wife. "Yes, Coach?"

"Nice job today, Kid." He says. "You coming back tomorrow?"

I think he already knows the answer, but I shrug and say, "Yeah."

"Good. I think you're a natural and that you'll go far."

Not trusting myself to speak without squealing, I give him a little wave and a stupid grin as I turn to leave.

 _He thinks I'm a natural!_

 **=/=/=/=**

 **A/N: And so it begins! Thanks for reading & reviewing! My friend Jeanette at Net, Hook, & Line Designs made a teaser photo collage for this story. I LOVE IT and it'll be up on my FaceBook page shortly, so make sure to "friend" me! Link is in the prologue.**

 **I hope to post new chapters twice a week, on Mondays & Thursdays, so keep an eye out!**


	3. Chapters Two and Three

**Chapter Two**

 **The next day...**

"Now I know this list is overwhelming, but we're just finishing _Oliver Twist_ and we'll be moving on to _Pride and Prejudice_ next week, so if you just want to start there, you -"

I scan the list of about a dozen books as Mr. Grey talks. _Great Expectations… Jane Eyre…_ trying to focus on the words as his scent envelops me. It's an intoxicating combination of body wash and something… just _him_. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks and I quickly cut him off. "It's fine… no problem. I've read all of these at least once before."

"You've read _all_ of them?"

"Yes… um, books are kind of my thing?" I can tell that he's lost for words, and he just stands there, like he's analyzing me. Like he's looking right into my soul.

I take advantage of the silence, pluck the list of required reading out of his hand, and scurry to my seat.

After class, as I'm leaving with Kate, he calls out to us. "Girls? See you at practice?"

"Absolutely! I took Ana to the mall last night, got all her gear sorted out," says Kate, pulling me into the hall. I manage a lame little wave before we are sucked into the sea of bodies making their way to eighth period.

 **=/=/=/=**

After school, we change into our running clothes. I have black nylon shorts, a mint green dri-fit tee, and a pair of bright purple Brooks running shoes. At least I _look_ the part today.

Kate and I are walking past the storage shed near the track when we hear Coach Grey's voice. "Girls, give me a hand?"

We step into the dimly lit shed, and see that Coach is trying to pull a large hurdle out of a stack in the corner. "Come grab this end, will you?" he asks.

Together, we drag the hurdle out into the sunlight. It's wider than the ones I've seen on the track and it's covered in dust. Coach grabs a rag and gives it a quick wipe-down.

"I know what this is," says Kate. "This is a steeplechase barrier. We haven't competed in steeplechase since… before my time."

"Yep, this event was my wife's specialty. And _you're_ going to give it a try," he says, pointing right at me.

"Um… what?" I ask.

"It's a 2000 meter race where you clear eighteen of these barriers and five water jumps."

I just shake my head. I think he's crazy. _Certifiable._

"Kid, I know you have the speed and the stamina, and a natural talent. The question is… Can you fly?"

 _ **=/=/=/=**_

It turned out that I _could_ fly over the barriers. And in the following weeks, Coach and his wife, Natalie, taught me the ins and outs of the steeplechase. It was grueling, exhausting, and _the most fun I'd ever had._

Natalie came to practice two or three times a week, showing me how to maintain my forward momentum over the barriers, and how to recover my stride afterwards. She was bubbly and fun, and she became like a big sister to the team. I liked her in spite of myself, in spite of the fact that _she_ was the one getting to touch Coach. The one who was going home with him every night.

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Six weeks later - early May 2010**

 **APOV**

I'm finding my pencil eraser quite fascinating. It's perfectly round and pink, unspoiled with no mistakes to correct… yet. I draw a little design at the top of my paper. A plump little heart, wings springing out of each side, six little feathers on each one...

"...the right decision, Anastasia?"

 _Shit._ I look up at the sound of my name. And I see those those gray eyes… the same eyes that were peering up from between my thighs last night. Coach Grey was just lowering his mouth to have a little taste when I woke up, feeling cheated and… _horny_. "I'm sorry, I was just making notes," I lie, scrubbing out the little heart with my eraser. "Can you please repeat the question?"

"I was asking if you feel that Elizabeth made the right decision?"

 _The right decision about what? Fuck._

He clears his throat, glancing around the room. "We were just discussing Darcy's marriage proposal to Elizabeth. And if she made the right decision in accepting it."

 _Oh, thank God I know_ Pride and Prejudice _like the back of my hand._ "Yes, I mean… even if Lady Catherine felt that their backgrounds and ages were too different, they had genuine feelings for each other. And if Elizabeth and Darcy are in love, nothing else should matter."

"So you feel that love should prevail? Even when the odds are stacked against the lovers? That they should… _cross the line_ , so to speak?"

"Yes, I do," I say, and hold his gaze until he looks away. He moves on to his next victim, a senior named Tyler who appears to have fallen asleep. I sink down in my chair and return to examining my pencil eraser.

The pink perfection is gone, one side of it rubbed off and misshapen, smudged with black. It's tainted, and it will never be the same.

 _Like me._

Ray found a therapist for me, one that specializes in _sexual_ abuse. She's a nice lady, but the things she's telling me? They're things I already know. _Don't blame yourself… Don't blame your mother… Having flashbacks are a normal part of the healing process..._ But the one thing I can't bring myself to talk about?

As if on cue, Tyler asks to use the bathroom - in a desperate move to escape Coach's scalding gaze, no doubt - and his hip brushes against my arm as he walks past. A shiver runs through my body like an electric current, and not in a _good_ way. _Shit! This is not normal._

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Chapter Three**

Friday night, Kate and I camp out on my bed with piles of glossy magazines spread out between us, covering my blue and white quilt.

"Oooh… look at this one," croons Kate, shoving her magazine on top of mine. It's a double-page spread of prom dresses, all in silver, but each one is a different style.

"Which one?" I ask, feigning interest. Shopping and dresses are not my thing.

With one perfectly manicured finger, she points to the shortest and tightest dress. Of course.

"Kate, I don't even think there's any fabric… it's just sequins. And you won't be able to bend over in it without flashing your panties!"

"Who says I'll be wearing panties?" Kate teases. She just says these sorts of things to make me blush. Despite her potty mouth and flirty nature, I know that Kate is still a virgin. I think she's gotten close, done other things, but hasn't gone all the way. _Yet._

"Gross!" I squeal, shoving her magazine back onto her side of the bed. "Keep your trashy dresses on _your_ side."

I pick up my LSU course catalog again, examining the 300-level English classes. "Oh, they have an entire course dedicated to the iambic pentameter… that's interesting."

I've started my college search, and I'm focusing on two main criteria: the college's English department and its track and field program. My grades suffered during my time in Texas, and I don't have a hope of a purely academic scholarship. However, I am determined to push myself in the steeplechase between now and next spring. It's lesser known, with less competition, than the standard running events. So maybe - just maybe - I have a shot at an athletic scholarship. Ray started a college fund for me years ago, and he's done the best he can to save, but a scholarship would really help.

At the moment. Louisiana State, Texas A&M, and the University of Oregon are my top three college choices. They have all stellar records in women's track; however, LSU seems to have a stronger English program. But I am not sure about living in Louisiana. The heat and humidity down there -

"Ana! Put that boring-ass course catalog shit away. You are not moving to freaking Louisiana! College is _over a year_ away. Senior prom is in _two weeks._ Aren't you even a _little_ interested in picking out a dress? And…" she grabs my hand and inspects it. "Damn it! You're chewing on your cuticles again…"

I pull my hand out of her grasp and roll my eyes. I've agreed to go to prom with Trevor Derrick from the track team - _as friends and with a group_. Kate's going with her current eye-candy of the week… _Brett? Brent? I can't even remember the guy's name._

"... and SO. Ana. Brent and I think we should _totally_ try going on a double date with you and Trevor before prom? Maybe go to a movie… you know what they say about sharing those popcorn buckets…"

 _Yeah, they say you can get the herpes virus from all the shared hand-to-mouth contact._ But I just smile and nod… smile and nod, and try to commit Brent's name to memory. _Brent… Brent… Brent..._

"Ana?" Kate's voice is softer now, concerned. "How come you're never interested in guys? I mean, is it because of… you know. Are you afraid of being - touched - like that again?"

 _Oh here we go._ I shrug. "That's part of it. I dunno… I'm just not that interested in… boys."

I'm not interested in the boys in our class because I have a crush one one man. And I can't have him. I can't help the visions of him that flash through my mind like a never-ending erotic flipbook. _Coach Grey's arm muscles as he shows to us how to best exchange a baton in a relay race… that little dimple in his chin… how he strokes his upper lip with one index finger when he's thinking… those smoky gray eyes._ I imagine those gray eyes darkening and his lips parting as he hovers above me. And then I reach down and stroke him through his pants, feeling how much he wants me -

"What are you interested in, then?" Kate asks, interrupting my inappropriate little fantasy. She fixes her intent green eyes on me, not missing a thing. "Ana, you're all flushed. Who are you thinking about?" Her voice is more insistent now. It's the full-on Katherine Kavanagh inquisition.

I cover my face with my hands and squirm under her scrutiny. When I shift my legs, I can feel that my panties are completely soaked. _Shit._

"It's Coach," I squeak out, my voice barely above a whisper.

"COACH GREY?" Kate practically yells, then lowers her voice, conscious that my dad is just down the hall. "You have the hots for Coach Grey?"

I nod, my hands still covering my face. _Oh God, this is so humiliating._

"Ana, we _all_ have a crush on Coach. I mean, he's a _gorgeous_ specimen."

I shake my head. "It's more than that, Kate. And I know that he's older - and married - but I can't help it. I love everything about him… _his mind, his body…_ it's more than skin-deep. I feel a _connection_ with him. And I don't know if I'll ever feel that with anyone else. I dream about him every night, and I wake up all _you know_ …"

"Shit, girl… yeah, you need to keep looking at those college catalogs. You need to get away from here. Like maybe even off the west coast…"

I look up at her and I can tell that she's half teasing me, her eyes twinkling. She's trying to lighten the mood after my humiliating revelation.

"Yep, LSU is looking better and better…"

 **=/=/=/=**

"Ana, pleeease, will you come out on a double date tomorrow?" Kate's been texting _Brent_ for the last twenty minutes, leaving me to look at my college catalogs in peace. "Trevor said he'd go."

"Fine. I mean, he's okay. He has nice teeth. And nice teeth generally mean good breath."

"Nice teeth? That's all you have to say about him? Nice teeth? What about nice hands? Trevor's a basketball player and he has long fingers… maybe long, _talented_ fingers?"

"Kate! Ew… Stop. Fine, if you will stop talking right now, I'll go.

Kate's smarter than she looks, and she doesn't fall for answering out loud. She just grins and then zips her lips. _Shit._

Kate comes over before our big movie date with Trevor and Brett to help me get ready. She smears gooey, pink lip gloss over half my face. "Kate!" I complain, turning to the mirror to examine my face. "It's too much… you're getting it all over -"

"It's exactly the right amount," she says, while pulling my hair out of its usual ponytail and brushing it until it lies in waves over my shoulders.

She convinces me to wear a shimmery blouse that she brought from her own closet, and a pair of skinny jeans and short boots. Even I have to admit that I don't look half bad, but I grab my jean jacket on the way out.

Kate scowls when she sees the jacket, but she doesn't comment.

"What? I might get chilly in the theater."

"Um hmm," she hums. I know what she's thinking, as she's dressed in a skimpy sleeveless top. "If I get cold, I'll just have to snuggle up with Brent."

Brent. It _is_ Brent. _This is going to be a long night._

Trevor and Brent meet us in front of the Crossroads movie theater at just before 7:00. Trevor really is tall, and I eye his long fingers, wondering how they'd feel if they met mine in the popcorn bucket.

We've agreed to see _Iron Man 2,_ although I know that Kate was hoping for something scarier so she could burrow herself into Brent.

We get two buckets of popcorn and settle into our seats. Kate is on my left, and Trevor is on my right. We're about a half hour into the movie theater before our hands meet in the bucket. I feel Trevor's hand freeze, and then he slowly traces one finger across my knuckles. _Ah!_ The sensation is like nails on a chalkboard, and I quickly remove my hand. I hear Trevor clear his throat, and now I can't concentrate on the movie. I'm wondering what's going to happen next.

And five minutes later, he does the whole pretend-to-stretch thing, finishing with his arm resting on the back of my seat. My whole body tenses, and then I feel his fingers on my shoulder, and it's like they're burning holes in my skin. _#3's fingers dig into my shoulders, hard enough to hurt, and then he pushes me down on the bed..._

"I have to use the restroom," I say, jumping up and pushing past his long legs, making my way up the dark aisle, across the lobby, and out through the glass doors of the theater.

I suck in huge lungfuls of the fresh night air, willing my heart rate to return to normal. Finally, with shaking fingers, I text Kate that I am not feeling well and that I'm calling my dad to come get me.

 _First date? TOTAL FAIL._

 **A/N: Putting the prologue as its own chapter threw off the numbering, so I put in a chapter break here to correct the issue. It was driving me crazy!**

 **Next up, we will get a behind-the-scenes look at Christian and Natalie's marriage. Leave me a review and I'll send you a sneak peek!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 _ **The following week:**_

 **CPOV**

As with anything I've thrown at her, Ana is a natural at the steeplechase. Natalie's been coming in two or three times a week to coach her, and it's been nice to see her back in her element, laughing and carefree again. Ana's been holding her own in her first meets, and I tell her the same thing I tell all my athletes as they walk onto the track. _Toes on the line, head up, eyes on the prize... and GO!_

Practice over for the day, I head back into my coaching office, which is in one corner of the boys' locker room. Even with the door shut, I can smell the distinctive combination of sweat and antiseptic cleaner, each scent battling to overpower the other.

I grab my bag and go to turn off my computer, but then give into a temptation that's been niggling at me for the past several weeks. Since a certain brunette junior walked onto my track and into my classroom. Kate said she attended Montesano schools through last year, then moved away briefly, then returned. _Why?_ I log into the school's main server, my fingers moving almost of their own accord, following the tabs to find student records. Clicking on the search box, I type _Steele, Anastasia._

 **Steele, Anastasia**

 **Student ID: 122052**

 **Grade: 11**

 **GPA: 3.25**

 **Parent/ Guardian: Raymond Steele, Father. Employer: Self-employed, Steele Woodworking.**

 **Address: 1014 Spruce Ave, Montesano.**

Spruce Avenue is in a working-class area of older, but well-maintained homes. Mostly ranch and split-levels built in the 1970's and 80's. So Raymond Steele is a woodworker, most likely with a shop in his back yard. He most likely isn't weathly, but he's not hard-up either. The important thing here is that Ana chose to be with Mr. Steele _and not with her mother_. I look down the list and see nothing out of the ordinary until I pull up her individual grade reports. Kate mentioned that she attended Montesano schools until last year, then transferred to Dallas, then returned at the beginning of fourth quarter.

I pull up her freshman and sophomore transcripts… all A's, with the occasional A- or B. It looks like all the B's, in fact, are for PE. _She and sports really haven't gotten along…_

Parents are listed as Carla Wilks and Raymond Steele, who are living apart, with Ana's address being the same as her mother's.

Then I pull up the transcript that was received from a high school in Dallas. First quarter grades are good, but then they drop to all B's and a C for second quarter, and then to all C's and even a D for third quarter. A couple the grades have an asterix by them, noting that they are incomplete. So obviously there was something going on in Texas that was not good. Did it have to do with kids at school? Or was it something at home?

Carla Morton is listed as the parent, and also residing in the household is a Stephen Morton. For a reason that I can't explain, the little hairs on my arms stand up when I read his name. _Stephen Morton… her mother's new husband, her step-father._

 _What happened to her in Texas? What was so bad to cause a dramatic drop in her grades, to cause her to return so abruptly in the middle of the school year?_ My phone pings with a new message, preventing my mind from traveling further down that dark path.

I dig my phone out of my pocket and see that the message is from Natalie.

 **It's go time… Are you on your way?**

 _ **Yes, just leaving. Be home in 15.**_

 _It's go time_ is code for 'the stick says I'm ovulating, so get yourself and your dick home. Now.'

Natalie and I met when I was a junior in college and she was a freshman. We were both on the cross-country team at Northwestern, and I worked up the courage to ask her out for weeks. I confided in my friend Mark, and he encouraged me to go for it... but always with this little smile on his face, like he had a secret. Mark was in a fraternity, and he invited me to their fall mixer. I walked in just in time to see Mark and Natalie lip-locked in the kitchen. Seeing red, I charged up to them, ready to knock Mark on his ass. Natalie saw me coming and jumped in between us, holding up her hands before I could reach my friend.

"I'm a twin... I'm Olive! THAT'S Natalie," she yelled out, pointing to a figure lingering in the doorway. I just stood there for several moments, seeing double, then noticing the smug looks on all of their faces. "Well. Now we know how you feel about my sister. Ask her out already!" From that night on, we were joined at the hips... Natalie and me, Olive and Mark.

Natalie and I got married when we both finished college. I stayed on at Northwestern for two years - partly because I wanted a Master's in Education… and partly to stay near Natalie. She finished in business and got a license as an accountant. We both got jobs in the Northwest Suburbs of Chicago. I'm originally from Detroit, so it was still pretty close to home - and definitely a step up - for me.

A month after our wedding, we ran the Chicago marathon together, and at mile 21, out of steam with the lactic acid burning in our thighs, Natalie goes, "Hey, we should run marathons in all fifty states." So we ran the Detroit Marathon the next year, and the Columbus Marathon the year after that.

But eventually we got tired of the young-adult life… living in apartments, going out with friends… and the Chicago winters. One by one, our friends bought houses and started popping out babies. Natalie is from the Seattle area, so we moved back to be closer to her family… to her sister and Mark who were already living in Bellevue and about to have their second baby. And to start a family of our own. That was almost a year ago.

Three months ago, we went to see a fertility specialist… and they found nothing wrong with either of us. Natalie seems to be all in working order, and my swimmers were looking good. Although it was nice to hear that we both seemed to be in good health, it was also frustrating. Nothing wrong means nothing to fix… just 'try using an ovulation kit for the next six months. And if nothing happens, come back in and we'll discuss other options.' We're officially one of those unlucky couples with _undiagnosed infertility. And it's a bitch._

I want a child as much as the next hopeful parent, to see my wife's body changing and rounding out, to make a little human that looks like the two of us combined. But what's hardest is seeing Natalie be disappointed month after month. Watching her blame herself, watching the light in her eyes fade a little more each time. We've talked about running the Seattle marathon this November, but neither of us wants to make plans, hoping that it won't happen. Hoping that she'll be pregnant by then.

 **=/=/=/=**

"Oh Chrrrr-istian… I'm close… ohhhh… YES!"

I look down into the face of my gorgeous wife, her head thrown back as she finishes. Her hazel eyes are squeezed shut, and her freckles stand out against her golden skin. I thrust my hips twice more and feel my own release as she squeezes me. _Yesssss… Oh, this baby-making thing definitely has its advantages._

We're both slick with sweat as I roll off of her, onto my side. I lean over and fondle the breast closest to me, leaning down to kiss her pert nipple. _Oh I love this woman._ She's my partner in every way… in running, in life, and - hopefully soon - in parenthood.

She lets out a little squeal, then gives me that look like - _We don't have time for this!_ \- and then she leans away from me and turns herself all the way around in bed. She puts her butt on her pillow and her legs up on our headboard. It's her 'must retain all of Christian's precious seed' pose. And she's been doing it every time for the past six months… _with no luck yet._

I sigh and roll onto my back, onto my own pillow, and close my eyes. All the sex is great, but baby-making doesn't allow for much post-coital bliss. _I love my wife… I love my wife..._

 **=/=/=/=**

I feel a nudge against my hip, and I roll over - like the faithful sperm donor that I have become - to do my job. Again.

Her thighs are already spread, ready for me, so I position myself between them. Keeping my eyes shut, I kiss my way up from one knee to her apex. I'm rewarded when she squirms and gives me a little giggle.

I sink one finger into her opening and she's warm and wet, ready for me. Mmmm… we've always had a very satisfying sex life, but lately she's needed a little… help. Just a little lube here and there. But whether she's just extra turned on or because we just finished a little while ago, she doesn't need it now.

I can't resist a little taste of her… she's ripe and musky tonight, and the last several times this week have been all business. _Not quite 'wham bam, thank you, ma'am'… but not far from it either._

My cock is straining and ready… as if it's been weeks, and not just thirty minutes or so, and I'm completely inside of her with one thrust of my hips. Ohh… she feels tight and just perfect. She lets out a little gasp of pleasure, raising her hips to meet me as I begin to move.

"Mmmm…" she groans, and her voice is soft and sweet, not throaty.

I open my eyes and I can the pale arch of her throat, her perfect rosebud lips open as she sighs in pleasure, the line of her nose, her dark eyelashes against her ivory skin, and the chestnut waves of her hair… FUCK!

My eyes fly open and I'm staring at the ceiling, panting as I watch the ceiling fan turn lazily in the dim room. I turn my head and Natalie - _my beautiful wife_ \- is snoring softly, her legs still in the air.

Fuck, fuck… my wife is lying next to me and I just had a fucking wet dream about one of my students. I just had a wet dream about Ana. Fuck! I cover the evidence quickly with my hand - my raging hard-on that's still… raging.

I carefully roll onto my side and slide out of bed. _Stay asleep, Natalie… just a little longer… please!_ I hurry into the bathroom and into the shower, turning the cold water full-blast onto myself. I will myself to relax. _Just breathe, Grey._ But it's not helping. My dick has a mind of its own tonight and it's still between the creamy white thighs of a certain seventeen-year-old girl. Fuck, fuck… mmm… Despite my better judgement, I start to stroke myself… I try to picture Natalie's face… her tits… her hazel eyes… but my mind keeps drifting. Ana's pale throat… her rosebud lips… and then her dark lashes open and her sky blue eyes meet mine. _My girl._ FUCK… I finish against the tile wall of the shower, shivering as I bathe in a torrent of frigid water... _and guilt._

 **=/=/=/=**

 **APOV**

He slips another finger in, and I am breathing fast now, starting to sweat as I meet him thrust for thrust. But I don't want to let up, to lose the spark. And it builds… and builds until I feel like I'm going to drop over an edge… and then I do. My core explodes in a shower of sensations, and I ride it as it swirls around and around. Thrust in, out, in… and hold. _Ahhhhhhhh.  
_  
As I come down, I see gray eyes looking up at me, a mouth held in a satisfied smirk. "That's right Kid… give it to me," he says. "That's my girl."

"Coach!" I yell out, and then my eyes fly open and I clap my hand across my mouth in horror. _Shit! Shit… shit… shit…_ I really am sweating, breathing fast, and there are two fingers inside me… _my own two fingers_. I quickly close my eyes again, and my fingers become _his_ fingers. He slides them out of me, traces them up my body. And I can feel the trail of moisture that they leave in their wake. Up, up… all the way up to my mouth. Just short of my lips, he stops and then pops his fingers into his own mouth, sucking my juices off of his fingers one by one. "Mmm… you're delicious, kid. So sweet… _intoxicating_."

Fuck! Fuck… I have to stop. Stop! I thought I couldn't handle being touched, but I want him. I want his hands all over me. _I wonder what his cock would feel like…_ Stop!

Oh. My. God. _I love him_ … I freaking love Coach Grey. _And there's nothing I can do about it._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

 **Senior Prom - May 2011**

 **APOV**

Kate and Trent, her new flavor of the week, are putting on quite the show, grinding against each other to the beat of the thumping music. Chaperones, who are freshmen and sophomore dads, are supposed to be preventing this type of thing. But I think a couple of them brought in a flask. I saw them laughing and passing it back and forth outside the restrooms.

Trevor and I never made it past that disastrous first date, and he's here with his new girlfriend tonight. This year, I picked my own date, knowing that Kate wasn't going to let me sidestep prom two years in a row. And, after all, this is _it_. We'll be graduating in less than a month, all off to find our own futures. So I picked Nathan, who is a quiet and studious senior and an anchor for the 4x800 relay. We've gotten to know each other over the past year, and he's got a great sense of humor. I would even go as far as to say we're _friends._

We danced with Kate and Trent for awhile, until they started ignoring us, practically humping on the dance floor. Nathan suggested taking a break to have some punch, and we're sipping it by the bleachers. Nathan clears his throat and takes a step backwards, and then another, until he's obscured in the shadow of the bleachers. _Smooth._ I take a deep breath, tell myself not to be a pussy… that we're _friends_ and join him. His white shirt is glowing, part of his perfectly-fitted tux with the silver tie and cumberbund. Yep, he checked to see what I would be wearing and he even got me a wrist corsage with a matching ribbon. I nervously finger the corsage as I step closer. Oh, he's nice… and cute… and I know he _likes_ me. _A girl could do worse, right?_ He sets his punch down on the closest riser, then takes my cup and does the same. With our hands free, he reaches for me and pulls me in. I will myself to relax. W _e're friends… he's nice. It's fine._

I feel his hands slide around my hips, and his thumbs skate across the bare skin of my back. I've heard the saying 'nails on a chalkboard' before, but I've never really understood it until now. It's… _grating_ and I shiver as the sensation sears up my spine.

"Ana, shit, I didn't mean to startle you," he says softly. "I just… you look so beautiful in this dress, and I wanted to…"

"It's fine," I say quickly, "Um, sorry about that… I'm okay."

He gives me a little half-smile, and then he leans in. And his lips feel… good. Soft and not too wet against mine. And his breath tastes of mint and fruit punch… no trace of foulness. I feel his mouth open and he slides his tongue across my lower lip. _Hmm… touching is not so great. But kissing? It's not bad._ I open my lips just a tiny bit and… FUCK! His hands slide down to my ass and I jump away like he electrocuted me.

"I'm sorry," I say. I should ask him if he wants to try again. But I know it's not what I want. I don't want to feel his hands on me… _anywhere_. I just want to go home… go home and back into my safety zone. Back to my inappropriate, but all-consuming, _hot_ dreams.

"Um, we should probably just get back out there before someone comes looking for us," Nathan says, his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, I guess," I say. And we walk out of the shadows, abandoning our half-drunk cups of punch to be cleaned up by the custodial staff. I see the tail end of a figure in a gray tux hightailing it to the bathrooms, one hand over his mouth. _Oh yuck… I hope they give the poor custodians some overtime!_

Nathan and I make an attempt at dancing, but he's hesitant to touch me again. We duck off the floor when a slow number comes on, standing awkwardly under the basketball hoop. Brittany Miller comes sidling up, batting her long lashes and thrusting her sizable cleavage toward Nathan. She's only a junior, which means she must have come with a senior… _or maybe her double D's got her a free ride._ In any case, I think Nathan and I are both relieved when she asks him to dance. _And that's the last I see of him._

 **=/=/=/=**

 **9:38 PM**

 **Lost Nathan, have a headache, called my dad to pick me up.**

 _ **Ana… no post-prom bowling? *Whine***_

 **Nope. I came. I danced. And now I'm done.**

 _ **Did he try anything? How was it?**_

 **It was fine. My dad's here. Gotta go. Be safe… xo**

 _ **You know it ;) xo**_

Oh no… I think a winky smiley might be code for: _I stole a condom from my brother's sock drawer and have it in my purse, so no worries!_

I'm shivering in my backless, sleeveless dress, my satin wrap providing no warmth at all. In the dark, outside the school, alone… This is not the way that I envisioned this night. But above all, I am just relieved to get away from that hormone-fest in the gym.

Ray's old, green truck rattles into the parking lot and I hop in, thankful for the warmth and familiarity that it provides.

"Buckle up kiddo. Headache, huh?"

"Yep. Thanks for coming to get me."

Ray, in his usual taciturn way, doesn't say anything more. He just turns up the heat, adjusting so that it's blasting my upper body, and drives us home.

 _Senior Prom? Total fail._

 **=/=/=/=**

"That's it… you just kissed? Once? That's odd." Kate and I are in our usual spots on my bed, only this time she's practically vibrating with news of her no-longer-a-virgin status.

I just shrug, ready to get the attention off of me. So I don't have to relive how his touch made me want to crawl out of my skin. How the only hands… tongue… _anything_ I want on me are Coach Grey's. How he's been joining me in my dreams _all year long._ As much as my body sings with thoughts of him, I know that part of it is that he's unattainable. And that make him _safe._

"... and ANYWAY, he was so sweet and gentle… I mean, it was - quick - but it didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. And even though I didn't - you know - this time…"

I just smile and nod, letting Kate tell me _way_ more than I want to know. After all, it's not like I'm going to let another boy's hands on me anytime soon. So I might as well live viacarously through my best friend's sexcapades. I'm gonna be a spinster with a hot pink vibrator and a hundred cats, bringing my fantasies to life with my own two hands.

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Last week of school**

 **CPOV**

"Ana, if you could stay for a minute after class? I have your portfolio," I say as the bell rings to end sixth period.

She nods and comes up to my desk as the other students file out noisily, the boys pushing and shoving and the girls giggling. Ana has somehow always managed to get along with her classmates, at least on the surface, while staying above their adolescent behaviors.

She's graduating this weekend, and has offers with full-ride scholarships to three major universities. All of them have stellar track and field _and_ academic records, but the English programs at LSU and the University of Oregon are top-notch. Students can take classes within the departments at any time, but must submit a portfolio of their work to be officially considered for acceptance into the major.

Ana has compiled a collection of half a dozen pieces that she is considering for her portfolio - two short stories, two poems, a research paper with references, and a book review. A couple of items were assigned in my classes, but the others are new to me. And all of them, of course, are quality work. She's never earned anything less than an A from me, but now she is looking past high school… she's looking for university-level papers. And, knowing her, she won't be satisfied with anything less than perfection.

I open up her portfolio and turn to the book review. She leans over my desk, and her chestnut hair falls between us like a curtain. And a whiff of apples hits me square in the face. She smells of my grandfather's orchard that I loved as a child, of apples and sunshine. _And it's a breath of fresh air._

"Okay, so overall this piece is very good… but in the introduction, you want to be more clear…" and my mind and my mouth go into 'teacher' mode as I explain the mechanics of a proper book review. Meanwhile, my heart is thudding in my chest - it's so loud that I wouldn't be surprised if she can hear it. And my dick… well he always has a mind of his own, and he's twitching in appreciation of her scent, making my pants suddenly and uncomfortably tight.

She tucks the curtain of hair behind her ear, and I can see that's she's biting down on that plump lower lip of hers. _Oh for the love of fuck_ … I'm fully hard now, and I want nothing more than to lean over and _bite that lip._

I quickly roll my chair forward so that my lap is completely concealed by the desktop, hiding the evidence of her effect on me. My body doesn't seem to give a shit that this is not okay. That this is inappropriate, and _just plain wrong_ in so many ways. Let me count the ways… maybe it will distract me enough to - deflate - my problem, which is completely adolescent and ridiculous. I am not a fifteen year old boy, but my dick thinks otherwise. _God forbid that I get called down to the office anytime soon._

"... and otherwise, your conclusion is right on track," I hear myself say. "I've made a few notes on the others, but they're just small grammatical changes, and self-explanatory." I had intended to go over each one, but I don't trust myself with her for much longer.

She gathers up her papers, sliding them back into the folder, and in doing so, her hand brushes against mine. And I know we both feel it - that spark, that buzz of electricity. What do our bodies know that our minds are denying? We're like two magnets, being drawn together, being pulled out of our assigned lanes.

Teacher /=/ Student.

Coach /=/ Athlete.

Adult /=/ Child.

 _Child, child, child… she's a child_. But she doesn't _look_ like a child. I can see her nipples standing at attention through the fabric of her t-shirt, and her breathing is fast. I know her heart must be pounding in her chest, in sync with mine.

She slowly slides her fingers up mine, from where our fingertips made contact, tracing along their length to my knuckles. Should I be relieved that it's not the hand with my wedding ring? Or more afraid? She traces one finger along the bumps of my knuckles, just once forward and back, and then removes her hand.

We're both full-on panting now, and the electricity is snapping and popping between us. She's leaning on my desk now, and her plump and perfect ass in her skinny jeans is just inches from my hand. Without even fully realizing what I'm doing, I move my hand those few inches and skim the round of her ass, barely making contact. But we both feel it… and the sensation shoots straight to my core. We both inhale sharply, and I jerk my hand away.

"Fuck! Fuck, I'm sorry… I'm sorry." I whisper. Sorry to who? To her? To my job that I could kiss goodbye? _To my wife?_

I look up at her and her clear blue eyes are looking straight into mine. She knows, she knows that this can't happen, whatever it is that our bodies are trying to say. And, I think - for both of us - that's part of the attraction. It's the forbidden fruit, _the taboo._

"I'd better get going," she says.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Knowing that I'll regret anything that comes out of my mouth right now. And my body? My body wants to shut and lock the door, bend her over this desk, and…

I just keep my head down, listening as she walks out, hearing her footsteps fade away down the hall.

 **Graduation Day - Montesano High School - May 28, 2011**

I'm standing with one hand wrapped around Natalie's waist as we watch the graduates exit the auditorium after the ceremony. The large, multi-purpose room we're standing in has been transformed from a cafeteria into a reception hall. Maroon and gray streamers and balloons are affixed to every possible surface. Banners with sayings like "Congratulations Graduates - Class of 2011" and "Montesano Bulldogs for Life" line the walls, covering up the normal posters about nutrition and school lunch menus.

I glance down at Natalie, who has a broad smile plastered across her face. She looks lovely in a fitted gray dress, her hair and makeup done. She's even wearing a new pair of maroon pumps and has a matching clutch. She's the picture of the supportive wife on graduation day. But I can tell that her smile isn't reaching her eyes, that the twinkle I love is missing today. I tighten my hold on her waist to remind her that I'm here, that we're in this together. We did end up running the Seattle marathon in November, and made the decision to try IVF after the new year. Thousands of dollars and four months of unpleasant preparation later, two healthy embryos were transferred, with the hope that one, or even two - Hey, twins would be _great!_ \- would take. Heartbreakingly, she got her period this morning. And that leaves us with a big, fat zero.

I look up just as Ana comes through the door. _My girl_ with her face flushed and one hand holding her graduation cap on her head. As always, she's attached at the hip with Kate. The two of them have their arms wrapped around each other's waists as they walk, chattering excitedly.

"We did it… we actually did it!" squeals Kate.

Ana looks up - her bright blue eyes meeting mine - and she freezes for just a moment, then smiles and drags Kate over to us. "Coach!" she calls out. "You made it… Hi Natalie!"

Natalie pulls away from my hold and steps forward to embrace the girls, first Ana and then Kate. They are a laughing, chatting, squealing group and I just stand back and watch them. Natalie has been like a big sister to the girls on my team, present whenever she could get away from work. She's volunteered at every home meet, manning the big time clock at the finish line and cheering all the girls on with her natural enthusiasm. Even when she was nauseous from the hormone shots, sore from the procedures.

"Oh I can't believe it… you're all grown up," Natalie chirps, then looks at Ana with a more serious expression. "Have you made a decision?"

"I'm going with the University of Oregon. I've committed to them officially… it's over, decision made," says Ana emphatically, waving her arms.

"Kid, that's fantastic," I say, breaking my silence. "I think it's a solid choice, and you'll be happy there."

"Thanks, Coach. Their program is still up and coming, and I hope to be a part of it. And their English department is super. Plus, I'm not crazy about the idea of living in the South…" her expression darkens slightly, but then she shrugs. "I'm a Pacific Northwest kind of girl."

We chat for just a few more minutes before Kate's family and Ana's father appear. _Did her mother not even care enough to come to her graduation?_ They all want to get the obligatory 'cap and gown photos' and leave to go out to lunch. We shake hands, saying our goodbyes, as Kate is telling us about the journalism program at WSU Vancouver. And how she plans to _transform_ the student newspaper. Kate's father laughs as he leads her away. He's got his hands full with that one.

Ana waves the others off, saying she'll catch up in a moment. She looks up at me and sinks her teeth into her lower lip, looking every bit the scared girl from over a year ago, her first day on the track. Her blue eyes brim with tears, and she hastily swipes one away as it tries to escape. "Thanks, Coach… for everything," she says shakily. "If it wasn't for you - and Kate - pushing me, I wouldn't be…"

"Hey," I say, " _Toes on the line… face forward… eyes on the prize._ Go out and run fast. I'll be watching your career, and I know you'll do great things."

She steps forward and, standing on her tippy-toes, wraps her arms around my neck. I pat her back, relishing the brief contact and allowing myself to breathe in her scent. _Apples._ She pulls away after just a few moments, giving me and Natalie one last tight smile and a thumbs up. _She's got this._

"Coach."

"Kid."

Am I sad to see her go? _Of course._ Will I miss her? _Of course._ Is part of me - the weak, dark, inappropriate part of me - relieved? _Fuck yes._

 **A/N: A bit of time hopping in this chapter, and more of the same coming up! Want a sneak peek? Give me a review and I'll send you a teaser. Thanks so much for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

 **Two years later… late May 2013**

 **CPOV**

The dark skies and the spattering of rain against the windows reflect my current mood. I am depressed, pissed off… _mad at the world._ School just let out for the year, and a third successful season of coaching at Montesano has come and gone. I have over two months of free time stretching out in front of me, _and I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do with it._

I'm twenty-nine, but I feel forty-nine. And I'm pretty sure that my hair is starting to thin on top with all the tugging I've been doing. Natalie left an hour ago, and I'm sitting in the living room of our house - the house that we bought together - staring at the large map of the United States that's hanging above the couch. It's our 'marathon in all fifty states' map, with pins indicating the races we've run so far. _Chicago… Detroit… Columbus… Seattle… Portland… San Francisco._ It was once something fun, a mutual goal. But now it just highlights the path of our failing marriage.

We ran Seattle after we didn't pregnant on our own, Portland after the first failed round of IVF, San Francisco after the second. San Francisco was in July, so we stayed in the Bay Area for a week's vacation. We took in all the sights and tried to relax and reconnect. Two days after the marathon, we were walking down a steep sidewalk and I felt an ominous pop in my knee. And then it buckled, giving out beneath me. My ACL was shot and running - one of the fraying threads that was holding us together - was out.

I rub my fingers along the four-inch scar that spans the length of my knee. A surgical repair and months of rehab had me walking normally - at least on flat ground - by the time track season came this year.

Late last fall, we agreed to do IVF a third and final time. We had two remaining embryos, and by taking a mortgage out on the house, we were able to manage the cost. _Third time's a charm, right?_ Well, it wasn't for us because we came up empty. Again.

Two months ago, Natalie started pushing for a fourth round, which meant a whole new egg retrieval. And selling one of our cars. And taking a loan from her parents. And I said no. I put my foot down. I tried to reason with her… that we should take the money from the car and her parents and put it toward an adoption. But she wanted to have the experience of being pregnant. She thought we _wouldn't feel the same connection_ with an adopted child. Of all people, I should know that isn't true. My siblings and I are all adopted! But she wouldn't hear of it, wouldn't budge.

And so we were at an impasse. And the next thing I knew, she was taking a job with a firm in Seattle. It was a _good career move_ and she was moving in with her parents _temporarily._ But when she left earlier today? She took all of her things… her clothes, her books, her grandmother's china. I don't think she's coming back, and I guess that means we're _separated_ … probably headed for the big D. _Divorce_.

I'm about to run my hands through my much-abused hair again when I spot the corner of a book sticking out from under the couch. Natalie took her little side table where she always kept a book or twelve, leaving four circular indentations in the rug. I walk over and pull it out, seeing that it's one of Natalie's chick books, _Wild_ by Cheryl Strayed _._ I start to toss it onto the couch, but the byline catches my eye: _From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail._

Sinking onto the couch, I thumb through the book and then start to read. Reading has always been Natalie's thing, not mine, but I cannot put it down. The rain continues to fall, and the day turns to evening as I read. Without even realizing it, I am making a mental list of what I'll need to hike the trail for a few days. Although the romance of being a thru hiker - hiking the entire length of the trail from Mexico to Canada - is appealing, it takes months to plan. Plus, I think a few days is all my knee can handle at this point.

After finishing the book, I fall asleep on the couch… too tired to get up, and relieved that I won't have to face _our_ bed, one side of it empty and cold. I wake early and shower, dress quickly in jeans and a navy blue flannel shirt, pack an overnight bag with essentials, make a hotel reservation for two nights in Eugene, and head out. I feel a weight lift I lock the door behind me, and I breathe in the misty morning air, realizing how heavy the atmosphere inside the house had been.

After stopping at the REI in Olympia, where they were more than helpful in emptying my wallet, I load my new hiking gear into the back of my SUV. _A lightweight pack, a one-person tent, a tiny camping stove, Nalgene bottles with water purification tablets, brand-new hiking boots…_ I'm telling myself that it'll be good therapy for my knee. That it will be nice to get away from it all, that I've always wanted to hike a section of the Pacific Crest Trail. That's what the rational part of my brain is thinking. The irrational part? It's thinking that the section I've chosen - Willamette Pass to Lolo pass - lies directly east of Eugene, home of the University of Oregon. And the Lady Ducks women's track team has their last home meet _tomorrow._

 **=/=/=/=**

 **APOV**

It's the last regular meet of my sophomore season, and I'm letting the excitement of the crowd and my teammates build inside my chest as I step on the track for the steeplechase. Women's track doesn't normally draw a huge crowd, but we have been slowing rising in the NCAA ranks, poised for a national championship. And we're having a stellar meet so far. Shaking out my limbs, stretching out my hamstrings one last time, I'm ready for the referee to call us to the line. And then I feel a sensation - like a _buzzing_ \- all up the right side of my body.  
I look up, and there he is - _Coach Grey_. He's sitting high up in the stands, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, but I know it's him. I can _feel_ that it's him. And as I take my position, I hear those familiar words in my head: _Toes on the line... face forward... eyes on the prize... and GO!  
_  
I run one of the best races of my life... lungs burning, my body humming as I fly across the line and finish in first place. But after I catch my breath, look up to see him watching - expecting to see him cheering me on, his smile wide - _he's gone._

I linger after the meet, sending my teammates off without me for our traditional post-race meal at our favorite Mexican restaurant. I'm hoping that he'd just changed seats, that he'll be waiting to talk to me… _or more_. My mind starts to reel through the possibilities. _His wife cheated on him and left, and he's here to find you. He missed you so much, has been pining away for two long years…_

 _Don't be stupid, Ana._ I convince myself that I just imagined it, that he wasn't really there and head back to my dorm, flopping down onto one of the ugly OU green couches in the empty common room. I'm still in my uniform and feeling sweaty and gross, but I don't have the energy to go any farther. I throw one arm over my face and let out a loud groan.

"That bad, huh?" I hear a familiar chuckle from the far corner of the common room, and I bolt upright, nearly jumping out of my skin.

"Jose!" I squeal, "Omigod… I didn't see you there."

He flashes me a bright white smile, then gets up and moves from the dark corner where he'd been lurking. _Okay, he was probably just chilling and playing on his phone, but still!_ He perches next to me on the couch, and his chocolate brown eyes rake over me. "You look like shit, mi amor."

Jose and I have been buddies since the beginning of last year, when we were both freshmen and scared shitless. We met at an orientation for student athletes as we're both here on scholarships - him for wrestling and me for track.

Jose is cute in that all-American yet sexily-Hispanic sort of way, and he has a perfect, compact wrestler's body. He's from Yakima, and he took the Washington state championship his senior year in high school.

I sigh. _I really don't know what my problem is right now. Other than I'm feeling disappointed, tired, and wound up at the same time._ "I thought I saw my coach - from high school? - in the stands. I must have imagined it, but now I feel all in a funk over it. And lately? It's like everything's been building up. Being the perfect student, the perfect athlete, the perfect daughter… it's like I'm wound tight and I'm gonna blow."

He quirks an eyebrow and his bright smile is back. "Oh baby, I can give you a release," he says and reaches for me, like he's gonna crawl his hand up my leg.

"Stop… Jose! Yuck. You know I don't have those kind of feelings for you. And I don't do the boyfriend thing. You know that."

He sits back, done teasing for now, and looks serious. "And why don't you?"

"Why don't I do the boyfriend thing? Because I'm fucked up. Because whenever someone tries to touch me, it makes my skin crawl."

"You don't like to be touched." Jose says, and then looks deep in thought, like he's trying to figure me out.

"Nope."

"And this is because…"

I shake my head. I can't go there. Not like this, sitting here on this ugly green couch in the common room.

Jose stands and holds out his hand. "Come."

 **=/=/=/=**

 **A/N: Uh oh… Thanks for reading. Sorry this chapter is a bit of a shorty, but I had to leave it here. Give me a review and I'll send you a teaser ;)**

 **If you're looking for another great FSOG FanFic? Check out 'I Ran So Far Away' by Swimming the Same Deep Waters. She's a great writer and it's my favorite new story.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

An hour later, José is pacing back and forth across his tiny dorm room, still trying to fit the pieces of my fucked up life together. Trying to

"So your step-father raped you when you were sixteen, and you think that's why you don't like to be touched… intimately. But you know you like guys because of those fantasies about -"

"Coach Grey," I interject.

"Coach Grey. Tell me, have there been times when you used… _pain_ as a way to feel alive?"

"Like cutting myself or something? No!"

"No… not like that, _mi amor._ I mean like… when I wrestle, and my face is being smashed into the mat, sometimes it feels _good_. You know, like _life-affirming_."

"Ohh… yeah I know what you mean. When I'm running and my lungs are burning, when my muscles are on fire, it's like that."

"Exactly. And what I'm wondering is… maybe - touch - needs to be like that for you. A mix of _pain and pleasure_."

"José, I don't think pain is going to help anything. When number three - you know - it was painful."

"But it was _only_ painful, right?"

"José! Of course there was no pleasure… gross!"

"And with the two boys in high school, there was pain… but also no pleasure, at least not with the touching?"

"Right." Where exactly is he going with this? _I think José might be crazy, but I have to admit that he has my attention._

"And with - Coach Grey - the fantasies were pleasurable, but you knew you couldn't have him. You knew he was unattainable, that it was safe."

 _Oh yeah, they were pleasurable all right…_ and they still are. But lately, they haven't been _enough. The haven't been enough release the pressure building up inside me. Pressure from too many expectations, a need to be perfect._

"Do you think I'm attractive, or at least not repulsive? I mean - physically?"

"You're not bad," I sass, "But I told you, I'm not interested in you that -"

José cuts me off. "When I was fifteen, a sophomore in high school, I felt just like you're describing. My father had just drank himself to death… and by that I mean he got drunk and then wrapped his car around a tree."

"Oh José… you never told me -"

He holds up a hand to stop me. "Because if I told you that part, I'd have to tell you the rest. That I was messed up, falling in with the wrong crowd, dropping out of wrestling, getting in fights… until the girl next door came over and kissed me. And then she smacked me across the face. Hard. And it was incredible."

"How old was she?"

"Just twenty but… she knew some things. She took me under her wing, dug in her talons, and whipped me - and fucked me - until I could see straight again. This went on for two years until she moved away. Back then, I didn't know what is was called, but now I know she was a _Dominatrix_. And I - lucky little bastard - was her submissive."

I know my mouth is wide open, that I am gaping like a fish. _Holy shit._

"After her, and once I turned eighteen, I explored the BDSM lifestyle. There wasn't a lot going on in Yakima, but I found a few partners who were willing. But once I got here to Portland… Oh man, it was like a whole new word. I went to some clubs, and trained to be a Dominant. But I've never gone beyond - scenes - in the clubs."

My mind is spinning with all of this new information, all of these new terms. _Dominatrix, Dominant, BDSM, clubs, scenes..._

"So, _mi amor_ , I think what you need… is a release. You're wound up tight and you need to let yourself go once in awhile. Do you trust me?"

I'm sitting cross-legged on his bed, and I'm - yuck - still in my sweaty uniform, my running shoes discarded on his floor. I consider him for a moment, knowing that my answer is important. Somehow I know that it could change everything for me. Somehow I know that this is what I need.

"Yes, I trust you."

José transforms before my eyes. His shoulders straighten and he looks taller, even though I know we're about the same height. He looks more confident and in charge… he looks like - what did he call it? A Dominatrix? No, he's a _Dominant_ and that make me… _Oh my God._

"Stand." He says. His voice is sharp, but seductive at the same time. It's luring me in, like a razor blade dripping with honey.

I scramble off his bed and go to stand in front of him, my heart hammering in my chest. _How did I get here? An hour ago, we were just friends talking on the ugly green couch. And now… Oh god, what the fuck are we doing?_

"Take off everything except your panties," he commands, while pulling his t-shirt over his head, and removing his socks and shoes. He unbuttons the top button of his jeans, but doesn't take them off.

 _Hey, this doesn't seem fair…_

"Don't think, Ana. You need to give up control. And once you do that? You'll be free. Do it now."

I take a deep breath and do as he says, feeling my nipples harden as the cool air hits them. Feeling self-conscious about my body, I bring my arms in to cover myself.

"Don't. It's just us, okay? You can trust me, and I want you unashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?"

I nod and slowly move my arms, letting them hang down at my sides.

"Say it, _mi amor_."

"I understand."

"You will address me as _Sir_. Your safewords will be 'yellow' and 'red.' Yellow is for when you are reaching the limits of what you can handle. If you use the word 'red,' I will stop immediately. Do you understand?"

 _My limits? My limits for what, pain? Oh, I should leave. I should get the fuck out of here._ But I want the release he's offering. I need it.

"I understand."

"I understand, _Sir_ ," he admonishes, his voice cracking like a whip.

"I understand, _Sir._ "

"Kneel down, with your knees spread apart, palms up, eyes down."

"Yes, Sir," I say and comply without hesitation.

"When we do a scene, I will ask you to go into the room ahead of me. And this is how you will wait. I want you to braid your hair in the future, but your ponytail is fine for now. Tonight, we're just going to practice, get warmed up. Stand and place your palms flat on the bed."

I comply and feel him come up behind me, the warm skin of his chest brushing against my back. He gives me a soft kiss on the back of my neck and I hear him inhale deeply. "So sweet, _mi amor_."

His fingers brush where his lips had been just a moment before, and then he trails them down, along my spine, stopping when he reaches the top of my butt. He circles my right buttcheek slowly a few times, then removes his hand and - _smack!_ \- he brings it down hard on that same spot.

"Ah!" I cry out, more in surprise than in pain. But what's even more surprising is my body's reaction to the slap. A shiver of pleasure rolls through me, then settles right into my core. "Mmmm…" I moan, "that was…"

José chuckles. "Intense, right? Pain… and pleasure. Do you want me to stop? You just say the word."

"Don't stop," I say. And I don't even recognize my own voice. I'm no longer Ana Steele… I'm his _amor_ , his submissive. "Sir."

He repeats the circle-and-slap routine three more times, and with each cycle, the sensation in my core builds until I am on fire… throbbing and ready.

José leans over and presses himself into my backside, and I can feel that this is affecting him too.

"José… I don't know if I can… I mean, it was only that one time," I say, hearing my voice rise in panic, feeling my body stiffen.

"Shhh… relax. I won't go too far… just a release, _mi amor_. You can trust me."

I feel his hand return to my ass, which is still stinging a little, but this time he doesn't circle it. Instead, he moves his hand down, slipping it in between my thighs.

I automatically clench my legs together, unused to anyone being down there.

"Relax And spread your legs a little," he murmurs, his voice soft and seductive. "Let me take care of you. Breathe, _mi amor_."

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding and whisper "Yes, Sir," while sliding my feet apart a few inches.

"Good girl," he says, and then slides his fingers further in, stroking me through my cotton panties. "Tan mojado. _So wet_."

He moves my panties aside, and slides one finger along my slit to my opening, then slips it inside.

"Mmmmm…" I moan.

He thrusts his erection against my backside again and again, echoing the movement with his finger.

I feel a burning in my core that starts to kindle, slowly at first, but then it builds quickly. It's the same as in my dreams with - him - his gray eyes dark, his sleep-mussed copper hair, his cock stroking in and out - but I always woke up before I could… José must feel that I am close, because he chooses this moment to lean forward and bite my shoulder, and the sting of pain along with… "Ahhh!" I cry out as I explode, shattering beneath him.

I feel José thrust once more against my backside, and then he shudders, collapsing against my back. He's warm and sticky with sweat, but I don't mind. It actually feels… _good_.

José pulls away after several moments, our bodies making a slight sucking sound as they pull apart. This breaks the tension of the moment - _the scene_ \- and we both laugh.

He slaps my ass, playfully this time. "I need to shower… and take care of _things_. Get dressed, and I'll see you tomorrow. Mañana."

I nod in affirmation, blushing with the knowledge of what he'll be doing in the shower. Yes, I want more of this. Mañana _. Tomorrow._

 **=/=/=/=**

José and I settled into a routine. Because of our schedules, we usually ended up getting together two or three times a week. Most of the time, we just fucked. _Hard_. It was a physical release. He helped me to learn about my body, and took it to places that I didn't even know existed. But every once in awhile, when one of us was just tired or in need of comfort, he would just hold me until we both fell asleep. And it was more than physical, it was an emotional bond that was growing stronger every time. I needed him… mind, body, and soul to feel at peace. To feel _whole._

Freed from my sexual frustrations, I was able to focus on my classes and my running. My mind was clear and my attitude was greatly improved. By the time my junior track season came, I felt like I could do anything... and I did. I'd always been slender and fit, but now my muscles were more defined. I was looking and feeling... _good._ I ate up the track like there was no tomorrow, leaping over the obstacles with a speed and power I had never felt before. It was that heady mix of pain and pleasure. _I was flying.  
_

As the months passed, José slowly took more and more control. He told me what I could and could not wear, when and with whom I could socialize. Pleasing him became the center of my being. I craved his rewards, and was devastated when he disapproved. I learned what I could and could not say around José. When he was the center of attention, he was all warm and caring. His chocolate brown eyes would glow with adoration, and I could tell that he was completely devoted to me. But whenever I would bring up Ray or Kate or - worse - Coach Grey? His eyes would narrow and grow cold. I couldn't quite put my finger on what he was feeling. Was it simply insecurity?

But in the coming months I would come to recognize it as a dangerous cocktail of emotions. _Jealousy. Possession. Fury._

 **A/N: Ok, so I know this is going down a dark path, but I promise that there with be a HEA for Christian and Ana. Things will start to look up by Chapter 10. You read the prologue, right?**

 **So my question is... Do you trust me?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

 **December 2013**

 **APOV**

"José, I don't think you're gonna like this, but -" I pause and watch as his warm, chocolate-drop eyes darken and cool. "My dad really wants me to come home for Christmas. I didn't see him over the summer -" I stop and shrug, knowing when it's time for me to callado. _Shut up._

I want to spend Christmas with Ray and see Kate, even if it makes José go all jealous on me. _Possessive José_ is a little scary, but he also makes my groin clench. _What is it that makes me want to see how far I can push him? Why am I so fucked up that I actually look forward to the punishment that I know will come?_

He doesn't break eye contact or move a muscle, just cooly regards me. "Okay, well I guess that's to be expected. It's been since last May that you saw them?"

I nod. Ray and Kate came down for one of my track meets last spring, just a couple of weeks before José and I hooked up. _A couple of weeks before I saw Coach... Callado, Ana! Don't think about it!_

Is he going to let me go? "You can come if you want," I say quickly. "We'll just go up for the day. You'll be there the whole time and -"

I stop talking when he holds up his hand, getting off the bed and going over to his dresser. He pulls a long, narrow box from the back of his top drawer. "I've been waiting for the right time to give this to you, _mi amor_." He brings it over and hands it to me. "Open it."

I make quick work of the wrapping and inside, lying on a satin cushion, is a gold necklace. It's a chain made up of links and hearts, all intertwined. I pick it up and it's warm and heavy in my hands. I examine the clasp and realize that it's a tiny padlock. I pull on it, but it doesn't open. I search the narrow box for a key, but it's empty.

"José… thank you! It's beautiful, but how am I supposed to put it on? The chain isn't long enough for me to slip it on over my head."

He smiles and opens his hand to reveal a tiny gold key. "The necklace is for you, _mi amor_ , but this is mine," he says, holding up the key. "And this…" he traces one finger along my thigh, dragging the edge of his nail across my skin, giving me that little taste of pain that I crave, and I part my legs for him. He slips one finger inside my panties, finds my opening and gives it a quick thrust. He withdraws just as quickly, leaving me wanting more. "...is mine. This will help you to remember that you belong to me. No one puts this on or takes this off, but me. Lo entiendes?" _You understand?_

"Entiendo, Señor," _I understand, Sir._ I hear his breath hitch, and he makes a little humming sound as he sucks my moisture off his finger. He loves it when I speak in Spanish to him. I've been making a point to pick up little phrases, knowing that they turn him on. He unlocks the necklace, then places it around my neck, locking it… securing me. _Possessing me._

"I'm going to leave now and return in five minutes. I want you wearing nothing but this necklace. If you please me, we can go see your father and your friend for Christmas. Sí?" _Yes?_

"Sì, Senor," I say softly, closing my eyes and listening to him leave the room. _Holy fuck, I'm pretty sure that I have just been collared._ And I know what it means. We are bound together as one. He will do anything in his power to care for me… _and I will do anything to please him._

"Eres mía," _You're mine._ he whispers, and his eyes darken just a little.

"Soy tuya." _I'm yours._ I whisper back, leaning in to rest my forehead on his.

 **=/=/=/=**

José and I went up to Montesano for Christmas. But we only stayed for the day, and he kept a watchful eye on me the whole time. We went as 'just friends' but I know Ray and Kate suspected it was _more_. Kate kept giving me _the eye_ , trying get me alone to talk about him. _If they only knew the truth… the twisted, fucked up truth of what their sweet little Ana has been up to in José's dorm room._

After spending Christmas morning with her own family, Kate came over for lunch and to spend the rest of the day. As expected, lunch is awkward and I can't relax and open up with Kate and my dad. We're all polite and we all make small talk, and it's _horrible._ These two people used to be my rocks, and now they seem like strangers. _Have I really changed that much?_ Yes, over the past year, I've drifted away from them… away from my other friends at college, my teammates. I do and say whatever's needed to keep them off my back, to keep them from being too suspicious, but nothing more.

No one else can understand what I need. What is making me keep my tentative grasp on my life... school, running, perfect grades, perfect daughter, perfect friend. José understands me, and gives me what I need. I am living a double life, only feeling alive when I'm with him… when he's giving me the release I need through pleasure and pain. When he's in control, nothing else can touch me.

"Heard anything more from the Olympic Committee, Ana?" my dad asks. There have been rumors that I'm on the 'short list' of Olympic hopefuls for Rio in 2016. And there it is… more expectations, more perfection. Luckily, the trials are over two years away. I still have time.

"Not yet… it's still early," I say, and my chest feels tight. I need to get out of here. I need a break. "I need to use the restroom," I blurt out. "I'll be right back."

I am away from the table and up the stairs before anyone can protest… not my dad, not Kate, not José. I stand at the counter in front of the sink and grip the edge, watching my knuckles turn white.

I hear the door open - no knock - and look up, knowing who it is. I see Kate's concerned expression reflected in the mirror as she comes toward me from behind. Blonde hair swirling around her face, green eyes round with concern.

I can tell that she wants to put an arm around me, pull me in, but she also knows better. Instead, she stands next to me and waits for me to make the first move.

"I'm sorry, Kate… I just don't feel very well and I needed -"

"Are you pregnant?" she interrupts.

 _Shit! Oh no…_ I suddenly see what she sees. I have been acting weird all night, I don't feel well, I am flushed and sweaty and obviously stressed.

"No, Kate… no, I'm just feeling overwhelmed… and even though it's Christmas break, I just still feel all this pressure… a new track season is looming ahead of me, and a huge load of classes. And now this with the Olympics...

She purses her lips. She knows me better than this and she knows that I'm lying, that I am holding something back. "Ana, I'm worried about you and so is Ray. What is going on with you? Drugs? What? You're sweating and you look terrible."

I laugh and pull my hair forward over my shoulder, getting it off my neck. The relief this gives me is short-lived when I look back up at Kate's reflection. She's scowling and leaning in, inspecting the back of my neck… my necklace.

"This necklace is interesting… I noticed it at the table, but couldn't see it very well. Is… is that a padlock?"

I nod. It's right in front of her eyes, so there's no denying it. "Yeah… it was, um, a gift."

"From José?"

"Yeah… and Kate, we should get back to the table. They're gonna wonder where we are."

"You mean _José's_ going to wonder. He doesn't want you alone with me, does he." It's not a question, and I can see the wheels turning… the pieces sliding together in her head.

"Kate, don't," I say, and I can hear my voice breaking. I don't cry anymore. _I never cry anymore._

"Ana, what is he doing to you?" She's practically up in my face, and I back up, my shoulder digging into the towel rack.

"Kate, what the fuck?" I growl, "What do you think you're playing at?" She's taking advantage of my aversion to touch, and it's seriously pissing me off.

Speaking of pissed off... "I. Want. To. Know. What's. Going. On. With. You." Kate practically bares her teeth at me.

"Nothing is going on... I'm with José, okay? There, I admitted it. You win. Why can't you just accept that and be happy for me?"

"Because I don't know who you are anymore. And I want to know what you did with my best friend. With Ana. Not the track star, not José's girlfriend. Just Ana."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say.

"I think you do. Or if you don't know anymore... you did. Before he brainwashed you and made you his submissive."

"He didn't make me do anything, Kate. I'm the one who couldn't bear to be touched... the one who's fifty shades of fucked up."

Her mouth quirks just a little at this, but she straightens it quickly down to a thin line again. The Kate Kavanaugh signature 'don't give me any of your shit,' look.

"He... helps me Kate. He helps me to... unwind, to take the edge off. Without him... I can't function. I can't do it all."

"You're sure? Because I think you're better than that. The Ana Steele I know is strong and resilient. She's smart and knows her own mind. And she cares when her dad and her best friend are worried sick about her."

That does it. "Oh Katie... I'm sorry, I didn't know. I didn't mean to worry you."

Her bright green eyes search my face, take me in. _Thank goodness she can't see the bruising on my ass..._

"I can't tell you what to do, but... Ana, please keep in better touch? And tell me... tell _us_ if something's wrong? If you're not okay?"

I give her a brief nod, but I avoid looking her in the eyes, pushing past her and back downstairs. "I gotta get back downstairs. My dad wants to open presents and -"

"And José will get suspicious?" She hisses over my shoulder as she followers me downstairs.

I wouldn't have guessed that my best childhood friend knew anything about BDSM, but she obviously knows something. _She knows. She knows, but the question is… What is she going to do about it?_

José and my dad both look relieved to see us return, but for very different reasons. My dad just looks happy to see me, happy that I have a smile fixed on my face. Happy that my best friend and I had a little chat and everything's all better now.

My eyes flit to José's face and I can read the questions in his eyes as he narrows them at me. _Did you talk to her? What did she say? What did you say?_ And I can read the threat in his posture. _You'll tell me everything later._

"I was just telling your father here about our plans for the summer," he says smoothly.

"Our plans?" I ask, hearing my own voice sounding tighter and higher-pitched than usual. Up until this minute, my plans included workouts with the team and maybe finding a part-time job. I have a big year and a half ahead of me, all mapped out until graduation. I know that I am a shoo-in for team captain next year, and I plan to lead the team to an NCAA title. And then if all goes well, I will be headed to the Olympic Trials next June. I just need to hold it together, stay on the straight and narrow, and José helps me to do that. I need him, and I need what he gives me. _Pain, pleasure, security._

"Yeah, for Panama. I was telling your dad about the expat community down there, and all the art galleries. They're practically begging me to come down over the summer and have a show, maybe teach a couple of workshops? And of course you're coming with me."

A shiver runs down my spine and I look down at the floor to avoid Kate and Ray's questioning gazes. I don't have any answers for them because I don't know what he's talking about. _But I have a feeling that I'm about to find out._

 **=/=/=/=**

 **A/N: Happy Christmas Eve to those who celebrate it from my house to yours! Next up, we go to Christian's POV and find out what's going on in** _ **his**_ **head. Leave me a review and I'll send you a teaser!**


	9. Chapter 9

**LA Chapter Nine**

 _ **March 2015 - Fifteen months later**_

 **CPOV**

The beginning of another track season here in Montesano means another one for Ana at the University of Oregon. And it's a big one for her - the biggest one yet. It's her senior season, and she's been helping to build Oregon's program. Their strength runs deep now, thanks to excellent coaching and recruiting, all the way from the sprinter to the hurdlers to the long distances. Ana is right in the middle of it running her specialty, the 3000 meter steeplechase. _And my girl can fly._

My eyes travel to the corkboard that covers most of one wall in my office. It's filled with news clippings and team photos from my years of coaching. And, if I'm honest, it's a bit of a shrine to my girl. Her face - smiling alongside her teammates or staring down the line in determination - appears more often than any others.

I keep my finger on the pulse of the track and field world, and I've heard the rumors. She'll be in the Olympic Trials next spring, for the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio. _Toes on the line… face forward… eyes on the prize._

Curious to see if the new roster is up for UO - and eager to see her name highighted in green among the other seniors - I click on the tab under my 'favorites' and bring up the website.

The women's track team is has a little red "New!" attached to it.

 _Yes!_ I click on the link and scan the list of athletes, recognizing many of the names from my years of stalking… I mean, _following_ her. Sprinters… middle distance… the steeplechase… _no Anastasia Steele_. I scroll down further to the longer distances. Sometimes women specialize in longer distances as their bodies mature. The elite women's marathon runners, after all, peak closer to thirty than twenty. The mile… even the 10,000 meters… _no Anastasia Steele. She's not here. She's not here anywhere._

My pulse quickens and my stomach drops as I scan the list again. A thousand thoughts run through my head… _Did she transfer to another school? Is she injured?_ There has to be a reasonable explanation here.

I fire off an email to the University of Oregon Athletics department, trying to sound as casual as possible. I've traded occasional emails with the secretary there, sending her race results and grade reports on prospective athletes. I mention that I did not see Ana on the new roster. _Was it an oversight? Maybe the mistake of an intern managing the website? Or perhaps she's tranferred to another school?_

I stare out the window, unable to think of anything else. Thankfully, my email pings just a few minutes later, a reply from _UO Athletics_. Thank goodness. Yes, let's get some answers here.

The reply is even worse than knowing nothing at all. It's a standard, carefully-worded, _non-answer_ to my question.

 **Thank you for your inquiry. Anastasia Steele left the university at the end of last school year for personal reasons, which we cannot disclose.**

 **The Office of UO Athletics**

 _ **Go Ducks!**_

 _Nine months… it's been nine months._ Nine months?! Another of my most promising athletes flashes through my head. _She went off to school, got mixed up with a boy, got pregnant in her junior year… no senior season for her._

NO. _Not my girl._

With a rock in the pit of my stomach, I drum my fingers on the keyboard. It'll take too long to search the rosters of every major university. Finally, I just bring up Google and do a search on her. Wherever she is, she can't hide from Google.

Except that she _can_ hide… because she's not anywhere. The last known hit for Anastasia Steele - or Ana Steele - is from the end of last season. There are several from that time, discussing her strength in the steeplechase, speculating that she's an Olympic hopeful. But since June of last year? Nothing. Not one single hit. She has completely and totally dropped off the radar. S _he's gone._

 **=/=/=/=**

I make it through the track season and the rest of the school year on auto-pilot. Years of coaching and teaching keep me afloat on the surface, but I'm empty on the inside. Two weeks before the end of the year, I turn in my notice. I'm not sure what I'm going to do next, but I know that it's time for a change.

I keep thinking about that book, _Wild_ , and the author that wrote it. I've read a few online articles about her, and how she renamed herself before she recreated herself. _Cheryl Strayed._ Well now I'm Christian Strayed - Christian Greyed? Well, I am feeling old these days. And I need to find a new path… a new beginning.

I was right that Natalie left that day for good, because a month later, she filed for divorce. We went straight downhill from _undiagnosed infertility_ to _irreconcilable differences_. I bought her share of our little house, even though it didn't feel like home anymore. But, the payments were manageable and I needed _somewhere_ to lay my head.

After submitting my notice, I put the house on the market, and it sold in six days. There's a shortage of affordable housing in the Montesano area, proof that the urban sprawl is beginning to creep up this far into the peninsula.

I used the money from the sale of the house to set myself up for the next six months, because I had a plan. I was going to thru-hike the Pacific Crest Trail - _the PCT_ \- from the Canadian border to the Mexican border, starting in July and ending in September.

My good friend from college, Matt, and his wife Olive, Natalie's twin sister, agreed to be my helpers. Essentially, they would mail parcels at predetermined dates to various stops along the trail. And I would call them from each stop to let them know of any schedule changes or changes in the parcels.

By this time, they were living in Bellingham with their two young boys. Bellingham is only about 30 miles south of the northernmost PCT trailhead, so it was perfect.

I spent the Fourth of July holiday with them, going over the parcels and instructions, and then watched the fireworks explode over Bellingham Bay from their back deck. Their two-year-old, Sam, snuggled in under my arm. He's got his mother's coloring - so, of course - he's a reminder of Natalie and what we could have had if things had gone as planned. If things had gone _right_. He's warm and solid, and I just sit and feel his little chest rising and falling, hearing his little gasps and giggles with each burst of sound and color.

Once the fireworks are finished and Sam is asleep in my arms, his older brother Will asleep in his dad's, Matt and Olive and I have a quiet talk over a couple of beers. They're checking in with me, gauging how I am, asking the tough questions. _How am I really doing? Why am I doing this? What am I looking for?_

 _I'm looking for myself._

Finally, I ask about Natalie, and Olive is quiet for a few moments before she sighs and answers. "She's been dating someone… for a couple of months now. She seems happy."

Fantastic. I mean of course I want her to be happy. _But I want to be happy too._

 **=/=/=/=**

 _ **Nearly four months later...**_

I roll over in my mummy bag and burrow into Ana's soft body, looking for warmth while probing her backside with my morning wood. I breathe in the scent of her skin at the back of her neck, and then choke on the scents of campfire smoke. My eyes crack open to the familiar yellow of the inside of my small tent, and a beam of Southern California sunrise hitting me square in the eye. My nose is pressed into my pack.

I'm close to the southernmost terminus of the PCT, just outside the small town of Campo, California on the Mexican border. It's a few days before Thanksgiving and in the forties here overnight. It's tempting to tuck back into my mummy bag, but the thought of a hot breakfast in Campo wins out. My stomach practically cries at the thought of a Tex-Mex omelet, dripping with queso and onions…

Okay, okay… I'm up and moving now. I dress in my customary layers and break camp quickly, with practiced efficiency. My pack is lighter than it's been the whole time. All of my fresh food is gone, and I finished my last freeze-dried meal - a beef stew that wasn't half bad - last night. I also finished my paperback novel and the PCT guidebook, burning the last pages in last night's campfire.

I make a quick cup of coffee and perch cross-legged on a nearby flat rock. I'm a little stiff and sore each morning, but in general I'm in excellent condition. I've probably trimmed twenty pounds off my frame, bringing it back to how it was when Natalie and I were running all the time. A couple of years of stress over infertility and another of depression will pack on the pounds. Facing toward the rising sun, I begin the morning meditation that's become my new routine on the trail. _Breathe in… breathe out._

During the long days of hiking, it's been all about putting one boot in front of the other, just focusing on what's in front of me. Up or down, right or left. And what direction my life's going to take after this. I know that I want to spend the holidays with my family in Colorado. But after that? I'm ready to find a new job - let's face it, the income is a must. But will it be nearer my family? Or back in the Pacific Northwest? For the first time, my future is my own.

But the nights? They have been one endless loop of my past. Regrets of 'what could have been' with Natalie that would morph into dreams of Ana. _My girl._ And they were always the same. _I would arrive at the UO stadium to watch her run. And instead of taking off like a coward, I stayed to talk to her, to see her up close. And we were finally free to act on our feelings, and she would come back to my hotel, into my bed._ And just as I was about to lose myself in her, I would wake humping the shit out of my pack. And it was unsatisfying and frustrating as fuck.

Why did I take off? Because I felt that familiar buzz, and knew that I couldn't talk to her in an appropriate way, as a coach to a former athlete. Because I was one day out from separating from my wife, and still very much married - at least on paper. And because I was looking at Ana's body in a way that made me feel like a dirty old man. The way she filled out her green and white uniform - more woman than girl now - her shapely legs and perfect ass. I felt like a slimeball and a cheater. And so I left before she could see me. Before I could let things get even more complicated. _And now she's gone, and I'm still fucked. Or not fucked… depending on how you want to define the word._

So much for my mind-clearing meditation. I've been feeling the pull of society these past few days, and it's been harder to keep my mind from wandering. My boots find their way downhill, on the path to Campo.

Like a lot of the small towns along the PCT, Campo has a post office, general store, and cafe all in one. They're used to the needs of thru-hikers, or in the case of Campo, those who are either starting or ending the journey. Those at the end, like me, are leaner, much smellier, and in search of three things: 1) A cold drink 2) A hot meal 3) Word from home.

I approach the worn desk, reading the sign above it:

 **United States Post Office - Campo, CA 91906**

The clerk, a young hippie with a tie-dye t-shirt and long beard to compliment his postal uniform, greets me.

"Welcome to Campo. What can I do fer ya?"

"Thanks… Um, parcel for Christian Grey?" As always, my voice sounds strange outside of my own head.

"Ah… yes, it's been waiting on you for a couple of days." He reaches behind him to a low shelf and then passes me my familiar box. One that I packed myself nearly four months ago.

I drop my pack, take my Leatherman tool out of my pocket and slit the tape, opening it up and finding my treasure. Usually it's a twenty-dollar bill and supplies for the trail. But this time, it's the ticket for my return to real life - a full change of clothes including my favorite Nikes, a toiletry kit, my iPhone, and my wallet. There's also a folded note, written in Ollie's familiar loopy hand. She always included a note and an extra treat or two - pictures drawn by the boys, Hershey's Kisses, a colorful bandana - but this time, it's just a quick note in bold letters.

 **Christian, call your mother as soon as you get this. Your grandpa Theo's had a stroke.**

My heart drops into my stomach as I absorb the words, noting that it's dated five days ago. _Five days…_ I pick up my phone with trembling fingers and power it on.

 _Real life is back and it just hit me square in the face._

 **A/N: I know I promised you Ana's return in Chapter Ten. But… this chapter kept getting longer and my time kept getting shorter. Next up on New Year's Eve, a new year and a new start for Christian.**

 **The good stuff is coming! Believe me, I'm getting just as sexually frustrated as you (and Christian)!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

 **CPOV**

Once the fasten seatbelts sign is off, I recline my seat and force myself down from the adrenaline-fueled high that's kept me moving for the past three hours.

" _It's bad, but he's still with us. He's asking for you..."_ My mother's words keep rolling through my head over and over. My grandpa Theo was a constant through my childhood and adolescence. With his quiet and gentle nature, he was one of the first people that I learned to trust after my adoption. He would take me into his expansive orchard and quietly explain about pollination and the various varieties of apples. He was never forceful, and just let me follow in his shadow. When I finally found my voice, he was ready to listen.

In a family of doctors, lawyers, and powerful businessmen, he encouraged me to follow my own dreams. At the height of his career, Grandpa Theo led a multi-million dollar agricultural company. But by the time I knew him, he had stepped back. He made time for more important things... feeding the world's hungry, apple orchards, and _grandchildren_.

The two hour flight felt more like twelve, cut off from communication as I was. When we were on the ground and I was finally able to text my mother, she confirmed there was no change. He was simply resting quietly... and waiting. _He was waiting for me._

 **=/=/=/=**

I hadn't seen the rest of my family in almost a year, but they were simply shapes around the periphery of the room as I walked directly to the impossibly frail and gray figure in the bed. His skin felt like crepe paper as I took his thin hand in mine and held it to my face.

"You need a shave, boy. And you _stink_." His speech was soft, and somewhat slurred, but his spirit was plainly and fully intact.

"I couldn't be bothered... All I could think of was getting to you, old man."

His mouth twitched at my irreverent jab, one side raising while the other remained slack.

"My lawyer... all the details..." He said almost dismissively, his voice fading in and out, as if that part wasn't important. "But two things... need to know. Already told the others..." I knew he would have had a special talk with each of them, especially my mother and my brother and sister. His wife, my grandmother, passed away from a sudden heart attack five years ago. "Two things... with the money. Something for fun. And something for the future."

 _Something for fun. And something for the future..._

"Grandpa... I don't," I don't want to hear last instructions from him. And something fun? There's nothing fun about this at all.

"... take yourself too seriously..."

I smirk at his assessment. He's always said that to me, since I was a little boy with sad gray eyes. A little boy who had seen too much.

"I hear you Grandpa. And I love you."

And with a satisfied nod, he closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.

 **=/=/=/=**

 _ **Two months later... February 2016**_

I was so grateful to be able to spend time in Colorado with my family over the holidays. We had a very quiet Thanksgiving at my parents' condo in Denver, and I holed up there for a few weeks. After all, I was technically homeless...

As Christmas approached, we all went down to the family vacation home in Aspen, and spent the week all together. We cut down a huge spruce tree, decorating it with popcorn and cranberry strands and all of our family heirloom ornaments. Elliot and Mia and I reverted to our pre-teen selves, squabbling over board games and trays of cut-out cookies.

On Christmas Eve we all walked to the top of the ridge that overlooked the property. My grandparents had purchased it in the 1960's, passing it to my parents with instructions that it should always stay in the family. And there we spread Grandpa Theo's ashes, as we had done with my grandma's years before.

Staying in the Denver Area was tempting. My parents were nearing retirement, Elliot was running a successful construction business, and Mia was finishing law school, set to intern with my dad's firm.

They were all established, successful, and seemed content. And there was me - black sheep of the family... _the teacher and the divorcée._

It was a lead on a job that finally pulled me back to the Seattle area. Although it had originally been Natalie that took me there, I had fallen in love with the Emerald City with its green hills and surrounding waters.

With a job as the Athletics and Activities Director at Bellevue High School starting in August, I had a new career. And now I needed a new home.

 **=/=/=/=**

The sound of the real estate agent clearing his throat brought me back to the present. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He'd been entering my search criteria into his computer and then searching the results for the past half hour.

"So you want at least two bedrooms... some land - but not too much land - a view... within 30 minutes of work..." He shakes his head. "I'm just not seeing..." but then he stops and presses his fingers to his lips, then squints past me through the front window at my car.

"That's your car?"

I shrug. Yep, it is... a brand-new Audi R8 Spyder convertible in black metallic. My 'something fun' that I bought with Grandpa Theo's money.

"Okay. Well, I have an idea, but I'd better drive."

 **=/=/=/=**

By the afternoon of the next day, I have a contract on three acres of land on the east side of Lake Samammish. It sits at the top of a ridge, at the end of a potholed private lane, overlooking the lake, with Mount Baker holding court in the distance.

The land was logged thirty years ago, and is now populated rows of white pine trees. With any luck, and a lot of time and work, these trees and this land will be transformed into a home - and a new chapter - for me. And hopefully it will help to erase the ghosts from my past.

It's my 'something for the future' and the view is amazing. But there's just one thought that's keeping it from being perfect. Thoughts of her have followed me through the end of my marriage, down the PCT, and now here.

 _Where is she?_

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Just a bit of... Chapter Eleven**

 _ **One year later - February 2017**_

 **Ray's POV**

I am just applying a coat of polyurethane to a maple rocking chair when my cell phone rings with an unknown number.

Thinking it could be a new customer, I answer it rather than letting it go to voicemail. I am not much of one for talking on the phone - or talking in genera l- but when you're running a small business, it's a necessary evil.

"Hello? Steele Woodworking, this is Ray."

"Mr. Raymond Steele?"

"Yes, this is him."

"This is the US embassy in Panama City. We are calling on the behalf of your daughter, Anastasia Rose Rodriguez. Her identification has been confirmed via a copy of her passport on our database."

"Yes of course - is she alright?" Why is she at the embassy? And why doesn't she have her passport There's no immediate answer, and I spend several interminable seconds and watching my daughter's life flash before my eyes. Her identification? Like the identification of her body?

Then there's a click and I hear the sweetest sound in the world, my Annie's voice. "Daddy?"

"Annie? Annie, what's happening? Are you okay?"

There's a pause and I think she's crying. In a broken voice she says, "I'm okay, but I need to come home. And I don't have - I mean, can you please get me a plane ticket?"

"Of course, but can you tell -"

"When I get home. Please," she says softly.

"Of course. Tell me what I need to do."

"Thank you, Daddy. Here -" There's another click and the first voice is back.

I make arrangements for Annie to come home on the first available flight, no matter what the cost. I don't know what's gone on down there with that prick 'husband' of hers, but I know it can't be good.

Twelve hours later, I see her coming down the escalator to the baggage claim at SeaTac. She looks thin - _she looks gaunt_ \- with dark circles under her eyes. And I can see her shoulders and collarbone protruding under her t-shirt. She's wearing blue jeans and her signature Chucks, but otherwise she has nothing other than a few papers in her hands.

She approaches me and gives me a small smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes, once so full of life and spark, are empty. They looked the same when she came back from Texas after that fu- _poor excuse for a man_ did what he did. Slowly, with the help of unconditional love and a lot of therapy, the spark returned to her eyes. She was happy, whole - or at least I believed that she was - when she left for college. Until her Junior year when she got mixed up with that little sh- _jerk_.

I pull her in for a hug, but she stiffens in my arms. She's been like this since getting back from Texas, resistant to touch. She did relax somewhat in the years that followed, but I don't think she'll ever be back to where she was when she was a little girl - my little girl. She used to leap into my arms and wrap her arms and legs around me. I could let go and she would just cling to me. _My little spider monkey._

She pulls back, and I only catch the briefest glimpse of the tears in her eyes before she lowers them, staring down at her shoes. I see her swipe tears away and I want nothing more to grab onto her, let her feel the comfort that she should get from being in my arms, and not let her go until she's answered all of my questions. _Until she's told me everything._

 _What did he do to you? Are you alright physically? Mentally? What made you finally break away from him? How did you get away? What happened to my little girl? And who is this broken woman standing in front of me now?_

But I know that I can't hold her, and that this is neither the time nor the place. So, instead, I simply ask, "All set? Do you have a bag to claim?"

She shakes her head slowly, still not looking up at me. "All set."

We're a pair, my Annie and me, and I know it's going to be a quiet ride home. I can only hope that, in the coming days, she'll begin to open up. I already spoke to the therapist who saw her for over a year when she got back from a Texas, and made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon.

She's asleep before we even get past the Tacoma Dome, her head propped against the glass of her door. She sleeps the whole way, only waking as my truck bumps over the potholes in our gravel driveway, the tires spraying up water from the puddles.

She moans a little as she opens her eyes and sits up, yawning and taking in her surroundings. She can't hide the little smile that's tugging at the corners of her mouth. It might not be much - our little white clapboard house, moss crawling across the shingles, my modest workshop beyond. Charlie, our good boy, a mongrel mix of several breeds of dog comes running out from behind the workshop, barking in greeting. Annie walked straight past every other dog at the shelter, going straight for him as if there was a magnet pulling them together. They needed each other, and Charlie helped her recover after Texas. I can only hope that he's able to work his canine magic once again.

He runs to my side first leaping at me as I open the door, but as soon as he hears Annie call, "Charlie boy!" just like no time has passed, he's around the front of the truck like a shot and into her waiting arms. I hear her giggle as she rubs him up and down, exclaiming over how handsome he is, and it's music to my ears.

As soon as we get inside she thanks me - again - as if I needed to be thanked? And says she's going up to take a hot shower.

I head into our little kitchen to 'make' dinner, which is Marie Callender's chicken pot pies tonight, and straighten up a bit. Living off frozen foods, coffee, and beer, I don't make too much of a mess.

The pot pies are almost ready when she comes back down. She has her damp hair pulled up in a messy bun and she's wearing her "Montesano Bulldogs" sweats, her 'comfort' clothing. She looks refreshed, but still tired and still with those empty eyes. Again, I only catch a glimpse of them, before she looks down. She looks like she's trying to disappear into her hoodie, chin tucked and shoulders slumped.

"Chicken pot pies are just about ready. You hungry?" I ask.

She doesn't even sass me about the frozen food. She asks if she can help and I tell her that I've got it handled and to have a seat. She just nods and then slumps into a chair at our little Formica kitchen table, puts her chin in her hands. She used to get after me every time, insisting on cooking when she lived here and whenever she would come home from college. She'd cook like mad during those times, making huge batches off food, and leaving me with a full freezer.

So when she starts to complain about my cooking again, I'll know that she's on the mend. I shuffle around the kitchen while she sits, putting a steamer bag of frozen broccoli in the microwave, getting us both a can of Diet Coke.

I place the food down at our places, and sit down across from her. "Let's eat, kiddo," I say.

"Thank you, Sir," she says, so softly that I almost don't hear it. _Or at least I hope that I didn't._

"What did you say?" I ask, and I can hear the edge to my voice, the little hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

 _ **To be continued...**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven (con't)**

 **Ray's POV**

If Annie was still before, now she's frozen, her shoulders tense. I realize that she's instinctively preparing herself to be hit, to be punished by _Sir_.

As much as I want to slam my fists on the table in front of me, to scream until I get some answers, I force myself to take several deep breaths, counting slowly. _One... two... three.._. It takes until thirty-seven before I trust myself to move or speak again.

"Annie... baby? It's me, your dad. You're here with me now and you're safe. Do you hear me?"

She nods slowly, but she doesn't look up.

"Annie, I am not your _Sir_." The word sounds foreign and dirty as I say it, foul-tasting on my tongue. "Look at me... please." I add the 'please' to make it seem like less of a command. She is done being ordered around by that bast- _jerk_.

She slowly looks up and holds my gaze for several seconds, and I finally get a good look into those sky blue eyes.

"I'm just so glad to have you home," I say, and my voice breaks. _Home and more or less in one piece_. I can't help thinking of her coming home battered or - God forbid - in a body bag. That image causes a wave of nausea to pass through me before I can repress it. "You're too thin. Please eat."

Even though my stomach is now a little queasy, I need to set a good example. So I pick up my fork and dig into my pot pie.

I make a point not to watch her while she eats, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious. But I'm relieved when she takes a bite, and then another. _Eat first, then talk_. When she's finished about half her pot pie and all of her broccoli, she lays down her fork. _Good enough._

"Up for a little talk with your old man?" I get up and move into the living room, sitting at one end of our trusty plaid couch. This couch has seen us through some rough times, and it'll see us through some more.

Annie follows me, bringing the rest of her can of Diet Coke. Charlie, who had taken his place at her feet during dinner, pads after her. He jumps up and settles in between us.

Annie pulls her favorite afghan off the back of the couch and puts it over her knees, snuggling in like it's Friday movie night.

"Annie, I've made you an appointment with Dr. Scott tomorrow afternoon. He really helped you last time. But, kiddo, can you tell your old man what happened? Even a little bit of it?"

She picks at the afghan, pulling off little bits of fuzz. "I'm afraid if I tell you, you won't look at me the same again. And I don't even know where to start," she says softly.

"Sweetheart, there's nothing you could tell me that will ever change the way I feel about you. How about starting at the beginning?"

 **APOV**

I shake my head. He _will_ look at me differently. "The thing about the beginning is… is that my relationship with José started out as a purely _physical_ one."

"Well I can see that… you practically curled into a ball in there when I got worked up."

"Not that kind of physical," I say, and I watch as the realization of what I mean clicks in his mind.

 _Oh._ And he squirms in his seat, wrestling between wanting to know… _and not wanting to know._

"Ever since… _Texas_ , I've had a problem with being touched. Because of what _he_ did, touch - especially _intimate_ touch - caused me to feel pain. And instead of dealing with it? I just pushed forward… wanting - needing - to be perfect in everything else. And I was ready to snap under the pressure when José -"

He nods. "Kate was telling me about… what did she call it? B.S… something?"

 _Holy shit._ "What?" I manage to squeak out. I cannot picture my father and Kate talking about BDSM. Especially BDSM as it relates to _me_. "You and Kate… _Oh my God_. What, like over tea and scones or something?"

 _Well I guess that explains why he about blew a gasket over my slip-up in the kitchen._

"Well she mentioned this -"

"BDSM…" I fill in.

" _BDSM_ as something that you thought you needed with Jose. And I guess I can see the appeal… with those swishers and fanny pluggers and all."

Um… what? _Please, please let the floor open up and swallow me whole. Or right now would be a great time for an alien invasion. Anything!_

"Floggers and butt plugs?"

"Um hmm. And she also said that that you had it under control."

I nod. That just about sums it up. "It started out that way… and then…"

"And then you didn't?"

I nod again, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

"And how about starting… from the beginning, Annie?"

Oh no. He does not want to hear about the issues I was having. How José _helped_ me. And how it spiraled into something beyond my control. I just shake my head again. _I can't._

"I will go as far to say that you have most likely... made some bad decisions? But I believe that whatever happened in Panama with your _husband_... whatever you think you deserved? It wasn't your fault."

What happened in Panama? I decide that I need to tell my story, but resolve to leave out the parts that no father wants to hear about his daughter. How my need for that cocktail of _pain and pleasure_ pushed me to a dark place where I lost myself.

 **=/=/=/=**

 _ **\- Flashback - July 2014 - 2 ½ years earlier -**_

"Hold on just a sec," I say, balancing my shoulder bag on my knee as I dig for my wallet. "I wanna grab some cash."

"No, don't get it here, Ana. The ATM fees at airports are always horrible, and plus you will just have to exchange it when we get there… which will mean even more fees. And we have to get through security… and look at that line," José urges me to keep walking, so I follow him to the security line that's seemingly a mile long.

The flight to Panama City takes over five hours, and I am sandwiched in the middle seat between José and an overweight businessman. I try to read my well-loved copy of _Jane Eyre_ , but it's tiring to hold the book in front of me without the use of either armrest.

Finally, I give up and put my book in my lap and lay my head back until I hear the flight attendant arrive with the beverage cart.

"She'll have an orange juice and I'll have a rum and Coke," I hear José saying, as he hands her a $20 bill.

"José," I hiss, "I wanted a white wine."

He shakes his head, his lips pressed in a tight line as he places the plastic cup of orange juice on my tray, and then takes the Coke, a tiny bottle of rum, and his change from the flight attendant.

"Alcoholic beverages are _expensive_ , mi amor. You can have some of mine."

I feel like a scolded child as I take sip of my orange juice, which is lukewarm and from concentrate. _Yuck_. And I can't help wishing that I had gotten my own cash out of the ATM in spite of his protests. I make a mental note to visit an ATM as soon as we arrive, no matter if it's at the airport with _horrible_ fees.

I pout for the rest of the flight, shrugging off José whenever he offers me a sip of his drink or tries to make conversation. This does nothing to lessen the feeling of being a petulant child, but at this point I am too tired and grumpy to care.

After we arrive in Panama City, there's a long line for customs. I bounce back and forth on the balls of my feet, needing to pee. I didn't want to break the silent treatment by asking if I could get past him to use the restroom. But now I can't take it anymore, and there must be fifty people ahead of us in line.

"José, I'm just going to -" I say, pointing over toward the women's restroom.

He nods and says, "Hurry back, Señora Rodriguez."

I turn away from him and roll my eyes at his mention of my new name - _'Mrs. Rodriguez'_ \- as I head for the restroom. Once in the stall, I sit and breathe a sigh of relief for a moment alone. It's sad that this - being in the stall of an airport bathroom - is the most comfortable that I have been all day.

I dig out my phone and turn it on, hoping for a message from home. Anything… just a "How was your trip?" or an "Arrive safely?" from Kate or my dad would be welcome right about now. The display reads **No Service**. _Fantastic._

I finish up and rejoin José in the line which, amazingly, is down by half. We stand in silence while waiting for our turn, then approach the counter. The customs agent is middle-aged, with a bushy mustache and bright eyes. He gives us the once-over before asking for our documents.

José produces our documents, his black Pasaporte de Mexico and my navy blue U.S. Passport. Until we were married, I hadn't realized that José wasn't an American citizen. He came to the U.S. when he was just an infant, and is now in the DACA - Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals - program. Now that we're married, he can apply for citizenship. But, that takes time, so he's still traveling on his Mexican passport. _Now_ _that_ _we're_ _married_ … I can't help but glance at mine as he lays it in front of the agent. _**Anastasia Rose Rodriguez.**_ I know that I stood in the courthouse and signed on the line. I know that it was necessary for me to travel with him on his work visa, but it still seems unreal.

The agent questions José and they speak in Spanish. The only words I recognize are "Señora" and "visa."

After several exchanges back and forth, the agent looks satisfied with José's answers. And then he turns his gaze on me.

"¿Entiendes que está aquí solo como cónyuge bajo la visa de tu esposo?" He asks. Based on his inflection, I know that he is asking me a question.

I shake my head. José starts to translate, but the agent holds up his hand to silence him. He continues to address me, but this time in perfect English.

"You understand that you are here only as a spouse under your husband's visa?"

I nod. "Yes, I understand."

"You will not be permitted to work or have anything in your name, including accounts and property. Do you understand this?"

I nod again. "Yes, I understand." Property? We're just here for the summer. I won't be needing to buy any property. And I have plenty of spending money in my bank account.

He regards me for another long moment, and I get the feeling that he's trying to communicate something very important.

"If you have any trouble, you must go to the American Embassy. You will not have any rights outside of the embassy. Do you understand?"

This time I cannot speak. My mouth is dry as I take in his words. What kind of trouble is he talking about? Is he talking about trouble with the law… or with my _husband_? Is he picking up on something between us that he thinks is amiss?

Knowing that this exchange could cause trouble later, when we are out of this man's sight, I force myself to smile. I reach over and grasp José's hand, then look back up at the agent. "Thank you. I will keep that in mind, but I am sure there will be no trouble."

The agent's eyes flick back and forth between us, and I hope that all he can see is two young people in love. He must be satisfied, because he stamps our documents, hands them back to José, and waves us off.

"Buena Suerte," he says. I know this simple phrase and I cannot help but heed it as a warning. _Good luck._

 **=/=/=/=**

The cab ride through the city to the condo that José has arranged for us is fascinating, and I take in the bustling metropolis on the thirty-minute ride. I've done a little research, and there are lots of museums and interesting shops, and of course I want to go see the famous canal. I'm going to ask José if we can take a sightseeing tour of it.

The cab lets us out next to a modern-looking high-rise building. It's white stucco exterior gleams in the evening sun. I smile as I take in the surrounding neighborhood. There are shops just across the street, and - _yes!_ \- an ATM in a little kiosk right next to our building.

José is busy paying the driver, so I grab my bag and walk the short distance to the ATM. It's marked Banco de Panama and - thank goodness - has an option to press _English_ on the home screen.

I pull out my Bank of America ATM card and insert it, following the instructions to make a withdrawl from checking, knowing that I have over $3000 dollars in that account. I select the option to withdraw $200, and when the screen flashes - ** **Insufficient Funds**** \- a cold feeling begins to tingle at the base of my spine. The screen returns to the home menu, and with shaking fingers, I press _Balance Inquiry._

 **Balance: $50. Available balance: $0.**

The only money in my personal checking account is the exact minimum balance needed to keep the account open. Taking any more out would have required my signature to close the account. The cold feeling that is tingling along my spine settles into my stomach.

 _Holy. Fucking. Shit._ He did this. José, as my husband, emptied out my banking account and I have nothing. I am in a foreign, Spanish-speaking country, with no money and - the customs agent's warning echoes in my head - _no rights._

 _Buena suerte._

I close my eyes and take a moment to breathe, to turn my expression from confrontational to impassive, before turning around to face my husband.

He looks nervous. _Damn right… he should look nervous. He cleaned me out! No wonder he didn't want me to visit an ATM while we were still in Seattle._

"José, there was over three thousand dollars in that account. Where is all of my money?" I ask, keeping my voice as even as I can.

"Oh I was going to tell you about that, _mi amor_ ," he says, and his voice is as smooth as honey. "Since you cannot have full access to your accounts here, I opened a joint account. What's mine is yours… and what's yours is mine. We are married. ¿Sí? _Yes?_ "

I don't even know what to say. After all, it's too late and I am here… and completely at his mercy.

José fishes out a ring of keys, and - after a couple of fumbling attempts - opens the security door. He had the keys delivered by FedEx before we left Seattle, eliminating the need to stop at the rental office upon arrival here.

We step into the elevator and I realize that I don't even know the floor or the apartment number. "Which floor?" I ask, not liking the sound of my own voice. I sound weak and tired and… _defeated._

"Twenty-five," says José, his voice lightening. "We're on the twenty-fifth floor… number 2502. We're supposed to have a good view of the water."

Once again - as is becoming a habit with me - I nod and don't say a word.

 **=/=/=/=**

"So GOOD… ohh…" shouts Jose, as he comes, thrusting into me forcefully from behind. He pulls out and rolls away, onto his back. "We're gonna be so good here, mi amor," he says softly, and in a rare display of tenderness, he reaches over and twists a strand of my hair around his finger. "Verás," _You'll see,_ he murmurs as his eyes close and his mouth opens in sleep.

Still on my hands and knees, I slowly lower myself and pull up the sheet, curling up on my side. I can feel a trickle of his cum leaking from between my legs, but I don't have the strength to go clean myself up. I can't help but think of the early days, when he would bring me towel - one corner of it wet with warm water - and wipe me down, providing aftercare and making sure I was all right. Tonight he didn't even wait until I was ready. There was no foreplay and I wasn't aroused. But he just shoved himself in anyway, taking what he wanted. Now I just have to lie here… chafed, dripping with his cum, and _alone_.

Not wanting to delve too deeply into how I am feeling… how I managed to get to this place, I think about arriving here earlier thus evening. The condo is very clean and modern - a small one-bedroom with a balcony. The main room is a basic rectangle, with a galley kitchen on the inside wall. There's a breakfast bar with two stools that divides the kitchen from the living area. A couch, a chair, a coffee table and a wall-mounted flat-screen television make up the rest of the furnishings. Everything is beige and white, including the throw pillows and the generic artwork on the walls. The floors are white tile and lead out to a small balcony, which has two chairs and a small, round table.

I yawn, exhaustion from the long day catching up to me, and wonder to myself if there's coffee in the equipped kitchen… I know I saw a shiny coffee maker on the counter. And it would be nice to sit on the balcony and…

 **=/=/=/=**

"Rise and shine, mi amor…" I feel soft kisses peppering my face and neck. I wake up to see a freshly-showered and dressed Jose leaning over me. He is - _damn it all_ \- pretty fine looking sometimes. He's wearing dark blue skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather vest. He does look the part of a budding photographer… and I know that I haven't seen this outfit before. _I wonder if he bought these clothes with my money? What else did he buy?_

"Good morning," I rasp. "What time is it?"

"Just after eight… you slept nearly twelve hours. I've already been out and got some coffee and some things for breakfast. So you just stay in… have a shower and relax."

I nod. I kind of want to go with him, but he's all ready and I know he won't want to wait for me.

He places one last kiss on my forehead and leaves. I listen for the door to close behind him, and the sound of him turning the lock, before getting up.

I use the en-suite bathroom, finding that Jose has left my toiletry bag on the counter. I brush my teeth, which are entirely nasty by now. _No wonder Jose only kissed me on the forehead!_ Then I gather my shower things, and already naked from last night, step into the shower. The hot water feels amazing, and I allow myself to linger under the spray, washing off the travel grime, taking time to shave _everything_. Feeling refreshed, I am pleased to find a fluffy white bathrobe on the back of the bathroom door. I slip into it and pad out into the main area in search of the promised breakfast. My stomach grumbles in appreciation as I spot half a pot of coffee in the maker. There's a small, pink box containing three filled croissants - which Jose knows are my favorite - and next to it is a bunch of bananas and two oranges.

I root around in the cabinets until I find what I need, a small plate and a coffee mug. All of the dishes are white, all of the utensils silver - _kind of boring_ \- but there seems to be everything that we'll need for basic meals.

I'm wondering what I can find to make for dinner - maybe some fresh fish? And I glance over at the door. Something about it doesn't look right, and it takes me a moment to realize what it is. There is no way to open the deadbolt without a key. Instead of a lock that can be turned, there is simply a keyhole. I set my plate down and walk slowly over to the door. I don't want to believe it, but I know it's true before I even try the knob. _I am locked in._

I turn around and look out the glass doors to the balcony… a balcony that is twenty-five floors up. And I feel bile rise up in my throat as I take in the condo for what it is - _a cell_. And I am as good as a prisoner here.

I sit on the balcony and eat my breakfast - the ham and cheese filled croissant sticking in my throat - and sip my coffee while staring out at the water. _No phone, no computer, no money, no rights… and no control._

 _ **\- End flashback -**_

 **=/=/=/=**

At some point, Ray's brought me a cup of tea in my favorite mug, and I just sit and hold it in my hands, let it warm me. I can't talk about it anymore tonight.

"Well. I'll have you know that the authorities have already taken your _husband_ in for questioning."

I figured that was the case. I showed them the bruising and the marks on my back.

"How much did they tell you?" I ask, even though I don't really want to know the answer.

"Enough. I hope they send that little son-of-a-bi- _gun_ back to Mexico. You know me… I'm a lifelong Democrat. I never thought I'd say this, but I hope Trump builds that wall, and builds it high."

He gets up and heads back into the kitchen, and I can hear him banging around, tidying up for the night. From butt plugs to Trump's wall in one evening. Raymond Steele is just full of surprises. And for the first time in a long time, I start to laugh.

It's unexpected, unconventional, and not even close to politically correct. _But it's a start._

 ** _=/=/=/=_**

 **A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! Thought I'd kick the year off with this nice, long chapter for you and a new beginning for Ana. More on her time in Panama will come in future chapters. Leave me a review and let me know what you think... and I'll send you a teaser for Chapter 12!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

 _ **One month later… March 2017**_

 **APOV**

My knees are shaking and I have butterflies in my belly as I walk toward the Starbucks on First and Union in downtown Seattle. It's been nearly three years since I've seen Kate… _my best friend_. She still holds that title in my heart, but I'm pretty sure that I've slipped down a few notches in hers. I haven't been a very good daughter or friend since hooking up with _him_.

My relationships with Kate and Ray are on my laundry list of things to do this spring. _Make things right with Ray. Make things right with Kate. Start running again. Finish my degree._ I've worked up to jogging two miles at a stretch, getting my body used to the exercise again. And, like when I first started running, the burning in my lungs and in my legs is _life-affirming_. Fortunately, my drive to be the perfect student gave me enough credits to get my degree in secondary education. I just need to complete my student teaching requirement, which I'm set up to do in Montesano this quarter, and then I can apply for my teaching license. That leads me to my fourth goal: _Find a job._

Of course, as Ray keeps reminding me, all of these things are secondary to getting healthy and finding myself again. He's been encouraging me to just take it easy for a year… _or ten_. He's in no hurry for me to leave the nest again. After all, I've done it twice and ended up sprawled on my face both times.

I've been cooking for both of us, fattening myself up on pancakes with bacon and homemade lasagna. And I've been seeing Dr. Scott twice a week, this time being honest about my touch issues, and he's been able to help me to see things more clearly… to see things as they really were.

The Starbucks is just down the street from Kate's work, ' _in Seattle'_ magazine. It covers fashion and social trends, some more tastefully than others. Kate's been living and working downtown for almost two years now, experiencing the stereotypical _urban young professional_ lifestyle, while I've been in Panama _getting the shit beat out of me_.

I spot Kate immediately as I push open the door, the bustling coffee shop feeling warm and cozy out of the Seattle drizzle. In spite of the after-work rush, she's managed to score a table in the back corner.

She looks older and so professional, like a _real adult,_ sitting there with her latte in one hand and her phone in the other. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a French twist, and she's wearing a dark suit with a white blouse. Feeling suddenly underdressed and frumpy, I unzip my raincoat and tug on my cable-knit sweater. _Here goes nothing…._

"Kate!" I call out, skirting between two burly men in suits who are blocking my path.

Her head pops up at the sound of her name, and she stands, smiling broadly and opening her arms for a hug.

Kate knows just how to hug me, keeping her arms safely on my shoulders, her body angled away from mine. "Oh Ana," she whispers. "I'm so pissed at you." And when she pulls away, her blue eyes are swimming with tears.

"Kate, don't," I warn, feeling my own eyes start to sting.

She shakes her head and pulls herself together, and we take our seats. There's a cup of English breakfast tea - bag out - already waiting at my spot. "Thank you, Kate," I say. And we both know that I'm thanking her for more than the tea.

We've been texting on and off since I got back last month, so she has a general idea of what's been going on. We talk about her job and my job search, our current living situations. She's got a trendy loft apartment near Pike Place Market, while I'm back living in my childhood bedroom. I tell her about my therapy and my talks with Ray as our conversation drifts into more serious topics.

"I guess if I say 'it wasn't my fault' enough times, I might actually believe it." I give Kate a small smile, but she's lost in thought. "So speaking of talks with Ray…" I _really_ want to know exactly how she and Raymond Steele ended up talking about butt plugs.

She blushes.

 _Okay, so it's a little bit of a relief that at least she feels awkward about it._

"So I went into _Bulldog Brew_ to grab a coffee when I was home over Christmas?"

I nod. _Bulldog Brew_ is Ray's favorite place for breakfast. He always orders the same thing - eggs over easy with corned beef hash and black coffee. The thought of those runny eggs turns my stomach, and I quickly return my attention to Kate.

"And Ray was there, so I went to sit with him for a minute -" She takes a sip of her latte, and her eyes are apologetic. "Ana, I was so worried about you. We both were. Your emails that you sent… just didn't sound like you."

"And so you told him what you suspected… about - you know."

"Yeah, but by then… I was really afraid that it was more than that. That it had spiraled into something else - something really bad. I mean, you were supposed to be gone for the summer… and then we found out that you had gotten married… and that things were going so well for him, and that you loved it there…"

I swallow, practically forcing down my last sip of tea, and push the cup aside. All of what she's saying is true. I got in too deep, and then I lied to the people who loved me most. "I know," is all I can choke out. And then, "I'm sorry."

"And he really wasn't a Dominant anymore, was he." It's not really a question.

"No. He was an abuser," I say, repeating the affirmation that I've been working on in therapy.

She sighs. "I was so relieved when Ray called to say that you were coming home. And I just have one question. So what made you finally leave? How _did_ you get away from him anyway?"

"Kate, that's two questions…" I joke. "And both of them have long answers."

"This Starbucks is open 'til midnight," she smirks. "I'm going to get your another tea."

 **=/=/=/=**

 _ **\- Flashback - two months earlier - January 2017 -**_

I can't see. I can't move. My hands are bound to the banco de azotes - _the whipping bench_ \- and I am blindfolded. I feel the end of el látigo - _the whip_ \- as it skates across my back.

We were at the market this afternoon, and the portly fish vendor was being his usual friendly self. Taking Jose's advice to use the little Spanish I had, to embrace our new home, I engaged in a little banter with the man.

 _He told me that I looked lovely._

 _I told him thank you, but it was the day that was truly beautiful._

 _He told me that my Spanish was coming along._

 _I thanked him and said good afternoon._

Then I accepted the paper-wrapped fish, slipped it into my basket, and turned to leave with Jose.

Jose's hand tightened on my elbow and he steered me in the opposite direction than I had planned on, urging me toward home.

"I thought we were going to the produce stand, _por vegetales?_ " For vegetables? I say, wincing as he tightens his grip on my elbow.

"How dare you flirt with that man, you're mine…no alguna puta," _Not some slut._

"Jose," I almost laugh at the absurdity of it, and it _would_ be almost funny if it weren't for the pain in my elbow and the growing panic in my gut. "You're always telling me to practice mi Español…" _my Spanish._ Telling me to embrace my new culture."

And so that innocent little conversation with the fish vendor has earned me a trip to the whipping bench. I mentally chalk it up as another thing _not to do._

"How many times should I whip you, mi amor?" Once for every word that you uttered with your _filthy_ mouth to that man?

"Es el día que es hermoso," he says in a high-pitched, mocking tone. "Gracias, señor, buenas tardes, he sneers. "Diez." _Ten_. "Count with me, mi amor. Let me hear you."

I feel the tip of the látigo leave my skin, and then a biting sting across my lower back. "Ah!" I cry out. He has never hit me this hard before.

"Count, mi amor. ¡En español!" _In Spanish_.

"Uno!" I cry out.

I am rewarded by another strike of the whip, this time slightly higher up. "¡Dos!" Then "¡Tres!... ¡Quatro!... ¡Cinco!..." The fifth lash must cross one of the first four, because all of a sudden my knees give out. "¡Red!" I cry out before I can even think about it, before my mind can catch up with my body's reaction.

And he hits me again… _and again_. "Rojo!" I scream, trying in Spanish this time. Whatever it takes to get him to stop. _And he hits me again… and again… and again…_ "Stop!"... _and again… and again… and again._ Even though it's dark beneath the blindfold, I know that I am drifting into a fog. My mind keeps counting, and I think I get to twenty-six before I black out.

 **=/=/=/=**

I've been in bed for two days, sulking and letting Jose's apologies wash over me. I've only gotten up to pee or get a cup of water from the bathroom sink. On the morning of the third day, I finally get up to shower and inspect the damage. I peel off Jose's t-shirt that he must have put me in after I blacked out, wincing as it pulls away from my broken skin. I take a deep breath and twist around so I can see my back in the mirror. It's crisscrossed with red lines. Some are light and barely visible, while others are dark with crusted blood.

After showering, I rummage through my toiletries for some antibiotic cream. But I forget about the cream when my hand finds my pack of birth control pills. _Shit._ I open the package and swallow one of the missed pills, and then the other.

 **=/=/=/=**

 _ **Two weeks later…**_

The calendar that we keep next to the refrigerator advertises local businesses in bright, garish colors. _Altabar Panamà… Rino's Restaurante..._ The words and colors seem to pulse and swim under my gaze as I count the days again and again.

 _Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty… thirty-one… thirty-two…_ We went to the beach on Friday, January 13th. And I was pissed that I had started my period that morning, mad because I wanted to wear my new white bikini. _Lucky number thirteen_.

And this time it's definitely mala suerte. _Bad luck._

 _ **\- End Flashback -**_

Kate's blue eyes are wide with shock, her latte forgotten as she reaches across the table and grabs my hand.

"Oh my God. So then what happened?"

 **A/N: Instead of sending out a teaser, I thought I'd post this little bonus chapter. Cuz it's my story and I felt like it!**

 **Enjoy your weekend!**


	13. Lucky Number Thirteen

**Lucky Number Thirteen**

" _So then what happened?"_

How can I put this into words? "All at once, I realized what you and Ray had been trying tell me for years. Like I couldn't see it clearly _for myself_ … but the thought of bringing another life into it? Into that nightmare?" I shake my head. "It was terrifying."

 **\- Continue Flashback -**

 _Thirty-two days._ I am four days late. I have never been this late before. A day or two, maybe… especially at the height of my running career. Some girls on the team didn't get their periods at all, but I always did. _The curse._

But right now? It wouldn't be curse at all. _It would be a relief._

Forgetting about breakfast, I just sit in a daze for most of the day, watching the clock and waiting for José to come home. He walks in at 6:00 with a wary expression and a huge bouquet of yellow daisies. Seeing me up and in the living room, he gives me a huge smile and a soft kiss on the lips.

"Feeling better, mi amor?" He asks, as if I'd been in bed with a bad cold.

 _No, actually, I am not okay!_ _You beat me and you are holding me prisoner here. Why? Why are you doing this?_ I could ask a hundred questions, make a hundred accusations. I could tell him what's really going on. _And now I think I might be pregnant._ But I don't say any of those things. I just nod and give him a tight smile.

"Good. Do you mind making dinner while I shower? I got some chicken and vegetables at the market."

Once he's out of sight, I roll my eyes and get up to make dinner. Like everything's normal… _just fine and dandy_.

I can barely choke down any of my dinner, and José scowls as I push it around with my fork. He hates it when I waste food. When I waste _anything._

"It's Wednesday… um, do you mind if I use your computer to email my dad and Kate?" I ask.

José agrees with a grunt, knowing that they will become suspicious if they don't hear from me at all. He unlocks his laptop and brings up my hotmail account while I clean up from dinner.

As always, he looks over my shoulder while I read and reply to messages from my dad and Kate. I keep the emails light and conversational, waiting for his approval before sending them. The emails from the first year - _when there was still hope_ \- were the worst.

 _ **Heard from your coach… Wondering if you'll be back for the Spring semester… It's your senior year, Annie… Don't forget about the Olympic Trials. You need to confirm by April if you plan to…**_

Now, like mine, they are _safe_ and… _resigned_. Like we're all desperate just to keep in touch.

 _ **From Ray: Hope you're watching out for yourself and wearing plenty of sunscreen, kiddo... Do you get the Mariners games down there?... I love you, Annie.**_

 **Yes, I am doing great… Lots to do here and yes, I am wearing plenty of sunscreen… Don't worry about me, Daddy.**

 _ **From Kate: I found this amazing apartment in downtown Seattle… I can't wait for you to see it!... When are you coming home?**_

 **The weather is incredible here… I saw two boys flying huge kites on the beach… My Spanish is really coming along and it's feeling more like home, mi amiga.** _ **My friend.**_

 _ **My best friend.**_

 **=/=/=/=**

José and I give each other the silent treatment for the rest of the evening, and I finally go to bed but can't sleep. My mind is still swirling with the possibility that I might be pregnant. _Am I having any symptoms? Are my breasts tender?_ I don't think so, but I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anything.

In the early morning, while José is still sleeping, I get up to use the bathroom. And just like I have done over a dozen times, I check my underwear and hope for blood… _and there it is_. A bright stain in my panties… and I nearly collapse in relief. _Thank God… Thank God… Thank God._

After taking care of the necessities, I feel all bloated and crampy and I don't feel like getting back in bed with _him_. So I go and lie down on the hard, beige couch and let sleep take me again.

"Mi amor?" I hear José get out of bed and shuffle out to find me, but I lie still. _How long have I been lying here? Hours?_ It's bright in the room now and my hip is sore from lying in one position for so long on the pleather upholstery. "Why are you out here?"

I just shrug and ask, "Are you going into the gallery this morning?"

He perches on the coffee table facing me, "I'm sorry you're bored here, but it's not safe for you to go out alone. I can be a little late today. Do you want to go out with me now? Get some things from the market for breakfast?"

I sit up and look at him and I can tell that he means it. I _do_ want to go out.

"Get dressed… you're always in that robe." He stands and walks into the bedroom, and I hear the shower turn on.

And in that instant, I decide that I am not going to stay here and wait _for the next time._ For him to hurt me again… _or worse_. I dress quickly in jeans, put on a tank top and light cotton shirt, slip on my Chucks, grab my shoulder bag. My wallet, passport, and phone are in a safe on the kitchen counter, but that can't be helped. I can't take much of anything without raising suspicion, so I choose my faithful _Jane Eyre_ paperback and slip it into my bag. _A plan… I should have a plan._ But there's just no time. It's now _or maybe never._

We're passing the small pharmacy when I have an idea. "Oh, José I need to get some… _personal_ items," I say, knowing that he _hates_ this kind of thing. He grimaces and then reaches into his pocket and hands me a few bills. A five and two ones - seven balboa - which are roughly equivalent to seven U.S. dollars. "I might need a little more, José," I say. Most of _our_ money is _my_ money, after all! "My period's really heavy this month and -" He holds up his hand to shut me up. _Yep, that did it._ He sighs and fishes out another five. "Cinco minutos," he says. _Five minutes_. Five minutes, twelve dollars, _and as much bravery as I can muster._

"Gracias," I say quickly, and take one last peek at him, my husband, as I slip into the shop. Adiós. _Goodbye_ … _and good riddance._

The tiny pharmacy is lined with the usual cosmetics and medications, and the clerk looks up from her magazine and gives me a little smile. I smile back and pause in front of the feminine hygiene items, like I am trying to decide what to purchase. She looks back down, and I quickly make my way to the back of the shop, hoping to find what I need… and I see it. A sign above a plain metal door market Salida. _Exit._

There's also a tiny bathroom in the little dark hallway, and I stick my head back out. "Si mi esposo pregunta, ¿puedes decirle que estoy en el baño?" _If my husband asks, can you tell him I'm in the bathroom?_

She nods without looking up, and I reach behind the bathroom door and find a button lock on the knob. I push it in and pull the door closed. Locked. _Yes!_

Stepping quickly over to the exit, I push against the door and it opens easily and silently, allowing me access to a narrow alleyway. It's smelly and dark, and I shove the door shut behind me, noticing that there's no handle on it - _no way back in._ I have no choice but to move forward.

What direction is the American Embassy? I don't know whether to turn left or right. Thinking of the street in front, I believe that the alleyway stretches further to the right. So I set off in that direction, breaking into a jog to put as much distance between me and José as possible.

I pass the backs of business after business, skirting between dumpsters and parked motorbikes. Until finally, up ahead, I see a patch of sunlight. It's a cross street and sitting right on the curb in front of me is the most beautiful sight - _a Panama City Yellow Cab._

The light is off, indicating that it's out of service, but I couldn't care less at this moment. Without breaking my stride I pull open the rear door of the cab and slam it shut behind me, ducking my head down and out of sight.

Out of breath, I manage to gasp to the surprised cabbie, who's taking a bite out of his sandwich, "U.S. Embassy… por favor. _Please_."

 **\- End flashback -**

"So they called Ray and… you know the rest," I shrug, then finish up my second cup of tea, which has gone cold by now.

Kate is a muddle of emotions - _relieved, visibly shaken, triumphant_ \- but she composes herself like the newswoman that she is, and asks her next question. "So what's happening with José?"

"Ray's been dealing with most of that… only telling me what I need to know. But he's standing trial in Panama next week for… _what he did to me_. And I guess he forged some documents so that we could stay there longer? The government frowns on that," I smile. "He will likely serve some prison time in Panama and then be shipped back to Mexico. He shouldn't be able to return to the U.S. - not for a very long time at least."

"And are you still married?"

"Kind of? I filed for divorce almost as soon as I got home. It's going to take some time, but _Anastasia Steele_ will be back."

Kate and I said goodbye with a few tears and promises to see each other again soon. It was after eleven by the time I made it back home to Montesano, and I could hear Ray's snores when I passed by his room.

In spite of the late hour, I decide to fire up my MacBook and search the job listings. March is prime time for school districts to begin posting jobs for the next school year.

Staying on the Olympic Peninsula and close to home would be ideal, but being a first year teacher - one who didn't quite even have her certification yet - I know that I can't be too choosy.

Making sure my search parameters are set correctly - 100 mile radius surrounding Montesano… secondary education - I click the 'search' button and wait as the results load.

 _One new listing_ … **English teacher/ girls' track and cross-country coach. Bellevue High School.** My heart starts to pound. This sounds too good to be true. It's my dream job... and within thirty seconds of seeing the post, I am already planning the next chapter of my life. _I could get a little apartment in downtown Bellevue, drive across the bridge to see Kate on the weekends..._

 _Okay. Cool it, Steele_. The posting instructs applicants to apply online through the district's website. So I close the listings and open Google, quickly typing "Bellevue High School" into the search engine.

I take just a minute to look around the website, opening links to look at their _academic statement, athletics department… and school administrators._

 **Principal…. Vice-Principal… Director of Athletics and Activities.**

I see a very familiar pair of gray eyes looking back at me, and I stop in my tracks. _Coach Grey._

I flop back onto my pillows, and feelings that I've been repressing for years come rushing back. _Oh God... ohhh..._ I have been numb for so long, not allowing myself to feel _anything_. He was a teacher and married... I was his student and his athlete. Then he came to see me... and left. And then I was with José. It's like my whole life is divided in two: before that day, and _after._

Exhausted, I drift off to sleep and - for the first time in nearly three years - I dream of Coach's body pressed against mine, his gray eyes dark and hungry as he devours me, and...

And then I wake up, sweating and _frustrated_. My room is still dark, but I can tell that morning is close. I check my clock: 5:50. And my mind starts spinning again. I found the perfect job, one that seems too good to be true, and... _Oh God._

Knowing that I won't be able to get back to sleep, I roll out of bed and pull on my running clothes and my _Montesano Bulldogs_ hoodie. Ray is still snoring away, so I scribble a quick note and leave it on the counter.

 _ **Out for a run. Back by 7:00. Yes, I have my phone. Love, A.**_

I slip out the back door and consider my options... around the lake or up the ridge? It's an easy decision, and I take off at an easy pace. I'm craving the lung-burning, thigh-screaming climb up to the ridge. _And the view from the top._

By the time I make the 1 1/4 mile climb, the sun is rising above the Cascades and I shed my sweatshirt, tying it around my waist. I walk over to the railing that marks the top of the trail and the viewpoint, facing east toward the rising sun. And although I know that I'm too far away to make out any details, I pretend that I can see Bellevue from here. _And Coach._

The run up here to this viewpoint has done its job. My head is clear and I know two things for sure. _I want that job. And I want to get it on my own._

 **A/N: For those of you who have been waiting… and waiting… We made it! Chapter 14 is the prologue from Ana's point of view and a little bit of… what happens next!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

 _ **Friday of the following week…**_

Wanda makes an ominous grinding sound, letting off a little puff of black smoke, as I ease her into one the visitor spots in front of Bellevue High School at just before nine in the morning. I love my little slug bug, but I know that her days are numbered. _I really need this job!_

I tug at my navy blazer and adjust my gold-colored purse as I walk into the school, checking to make sure my French twist is in place. I hope that I at least _look_ like I'm oozing school spirit and confidence. My interview is with Mr. Hobbes, the school principal. When they called me to schedule the interview, I requested that Mr. Grey _not_ be present. I explained that I was a former student of his, and that I would prefer a completely objective and unbiased interview. The secretary assured me that Mr. Grey would be out of the building, at a district-wide athletics meeting, this morning.

I'm ushered into a small office behind the main reception desk at the school… _the principal's office._ It's not like I ever did anything to warrant being sent to the principal's office while I was in school, but it still gives me a little rush of nerves.

Mr. Hobbes, a wiry, middle-aged man, gives me a firm handshake and invites me to sit in one of the chairs facing his desk. I catch a glimpse of his name plate as I sit. **Calvin Hobbes, Principal.** _Really? Calvin Hobbes?_ There's a tiny stuffed tiger sitting on the desk next to it, a testament to his good humor about his name. _Yep, he's heard it before._

I spend nearly an hour rattling on about teaching methods, my views on English literature, my coaching strategies, my athletic career...

Mr. Hobbes just sits there the whole time with a bemused expression on his face. I can't tell if he's listening to me or... wondering what he's going to order for lunch. By the end of my monologue, I'm convinced that they must already have a candidate in mind. That he was just hearing me out to meet some sort of interview quota. I take a deep breath and feel the weight of my disappointment drop into my gut. This was too good to be true.

"Is there anything else?" I ask, and I can hear my voice start to waver. I just want to get out of here.

He straightens in his chair, steeples his fingers under his chin. "No, I think that about covers it. You're a legend around here, you know."

"Umm, excuse me?"

"I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw your application come through. _Anastasia Steele... star athlete, Olympic hopeful, emphasis on English literature… and star of Coach Grey's bulletin board._ He practically has a shrine to you in his office."

 _Oh. Well, so much for keeping things objective and unbiased._

Mr. Hobbes offers me the job on the spot, inviting me to come watch the Lady Wolverines' last track meet this afternoon. He asks me to consider his offer over the weekend, and to come fill out paperwork - assuming that I accept - on Monday. I am walking back out of the school, my head spinning, at just after 10:00. _Whew!_

 **=/=/=/=**

Keeping my sunglasses on and my chin down, I follow the asphalt path to the track. It's almost 4:00, time for the meet to begin. I can hear the announcer calling for the 4x800 relay, which is the first event in every high school meet. _I can feel the butterflies as I step onto the track, ready to kick things off. Toes on the line… face forward… eyes on the prize… and GO!_

Everything about this school district screams money and, if I'm not mistaken, football. The track is gorgeous, bright gold with a navy blue infield. And shiny, black-and-white hurdles with _Wolverines_ written across them in navy script. Wait a minute… you can't run a 4x800 relay with hurdles in the home stretch! What were they thinking?

I turn and walk up into the stands, my Chucks clanging against the aluminum bleachers, noting the words 'Wolverines Football State Champions 2010, 2015' painted on the pressbox in huge script. _Yep_. wasn't sure what to wear this afternoon, wanting to be casual but not _Montesano Bulldogs_ hoodie casual. I finally decided on a white and navy cotton shirt over a white tank, skinny jeans, and - of course - my black Chucks. After all, I got my start on the track in an identical pair. _And now I'm looking for another new beginning._

The track is in chaos, people yelling to each other about the hurdles and others just standing around in odd bunches. Finally, several of the athletes are sent to pull the hurdles off the track. Who is running this meet anyway? This would never have happened with Coach Grey in charge. _Or me._

I take my notebook out of my shoulder bag so I can make some notes. The wind picks up and starts to swirl my hair into my face, so I dig out a hair tie. I'm just pulling my hair back into a ponytail when I feel it. That familiar tingle that starts in my scalp and radiates all the way down to my tailbone.

 _He's here._

 _Get a grip, Steele. He's married and Natalie's probably here too. Or, more likely, at home with a couple of mini-Coach Greys. Their son is probably about four, with a mischievous grin, while their baby girl..._

I hear someone making their way slowly down the bleachers, coming over to where I'm sitting. And then I hear _him_ call out, "Hello there! I'm Christian Grey, the athletic director, but everyone calls me 'Coa-'"

I take off my sunglasses, and can't help the ear-splitting grin that spreads across my face. "Coach!" I squeal, and without even realizing what I'm doing, I'm up and wrapping my arms around him.

I give myself just a heartbeat to inhale his scent - body wash, and something that's uniquely _him_ \- before pulling back. Feeling suddenly shy, I look down and tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

"Kid," he chokes out, "Where did you? - How did you? -" He gives up and just runs his hands through his hair. I'm surprised that he hasn't gone bald by now. He looks just the same - maybe a tiny bit of gray mixed in with the copper, a couple of laugh lines around his eyes. He looks good. _Really good._

"Um, it's a long story? But… I applied for the teaching and coaching job here? I'm just checking things out."

We sit down - side-by-side - on the bleachers and gaze back out at the track. The 4x800 is just getting to the anchor leg.

"So how do they look?" He asks.

"Mmm... I definitely see some talent. The anchor looks like she has some speed." I watch as she accelerates, pulls away from the pack.

"But?"

"But I can make them better."

He smirks and we both watch in silence as they set the hurdles back up for the 100-meter race.

 **CPOV**

"Hey Kid, I should get back up there… and this is probably against the rules, but… Do you want to maybe grab a drink afterwards? You can fill me in on that long story?" I ask.

"Oh, I said I'd go for pizza with the team afterwards… so I can meet a few people, talk about the program," she says. I'm pleased that she sounds disappointed.

"Oh," I say, "Great… well maybe I will come along." It's a standing tradition that the team goes for pizza at the local parlor after the last meet. I don't usually go to these types of things, but maybe it'll be good? I can't get into any trouble with a room full of parents and athletes. Right?

She smiles at me, and then sinks her teeth into her lower lip. "See you there."

 _Oh_ , _I'd_ _like_ _to_ _bite_ _that_ _lip._ But instead, I give her a nod and climb back up to the pressbox. I scoot back into my spot behind the announcer's microphone, adjusting myself under the cover of the desk. _My girl is back. And all of those feelings that I have been ignoring? They're back too. And I am in so much trouble._

 **=/=/=/=**

I immediately spot our group when I walk into the Pagliacci Pizza near Bellevue Square Mall that evening. It's two long tables overflowing with teenage noise and energy, as the girls celebrate their win against Lakeside.

Ty Bennett, that useless prick of a coach, is right in the middle of them, laughing and nursing a beer. _Yeah whatever… you're out of here._ And who drinks at a student gathering anyway? It's completely inappropriate.

Speaking of inappropriate, I spot _my girl_ at the far end of one of the tables. She's talking with a couple of the parents, one arm perched on the back of the empty seat next to her. My heart thuds in my chest. She saved me a seat? Unable to keep from smiling, I make my way around the tables and am pleased when she smiles back and removes her arm from the empty chair.

I slide in next to her and notice that she's changed her clothes. She's now wearing navy… a dress? Yes, it's a dress. I'm sure that when she's standing up, it's perfectly decent, maybe even knee-length. But as I settle into my seat, I have a good view of her smooth thighs.

"Kid," I say, forcing my eyes up to her face and giving her one of my megawatt grins.

"Coach," she answers, "I was just talking to the Millers here -"

I nod and switch into director mode, joining in the conversation about college recruiters.

Ana tells them about how she is hoping to take the position as English teacher and coach, about our days at Montesano, and her time at UO. But she doesn't make any mention of where she's been over the past three years. My mind wants to scream out, _Where were you? You disappeared, dropped completely off the radar. And now you're sitting here, chatting casually, like no time has passed._ But she looks a little bit different… more woman than girl now. She's what? Twenty-three or twenty-four? _And no ring on her finger._

When the pizza arrives, I reach down to put my napkin on my lap and - _accidentally_ \- brush the fingers of my left hand against her bare thigh. Okay, so it wasn't really an accident, but it _could_ have been. I feel a tingling in my fingertips, as if a current passed between us. Ana tenses and I can feel her thigh muscle tighten. Oh yes, she feels it too - that current, that _spark_. Her expression doesn't change, but she subtly looks down at my hand. I can almost feel her mind taking note of it. _No wedding ring._

She blushes, a deep pink working its way up from her neck to her cheeks. I wonder what the rest of her body looks like? Does the whole thing turn pink when she's embarrassed? When she's _aroused?_

Unable to help myself, I slowly move my fingers back and forth across the top of her knee. She doesn't move, except that I can feel her thigh muscle relax. She's not telling me no, _so is that a yes?_

When my fingers reach the inside of her knee again, I slowly slide them a few inches up the inside of her thigh and rest them there. Using my free hand, I somehow manage to serve myself a slice of pizza and maintain my conversation with the Millers. Ana laughs at something Mr. Miller says, but she shifts just a little in her chair.

Part of me is wishing that I could have her alone right now. But the other part? Something about doing this here, right across from these parents, is _hot._

We finish up dinner, and people begin to stand and get ready to leave. Once everyone else at our table is gone, I turn to Ana. "Are you staying nearby? I assume the school district put you up somewhere decent?"

"Yes, the Hyatt Regency… It's just up Bellevue Way a few blocks?"

I nod. It's a decent place, and she should be safe enough there. But even so, I don't want to let her go.

She clears her throat. "So there's a little place next door to the hotel? _Thirteen Coins_ or something? I saw it when I checked in this afternoon… Um... Care to join me for that drink?"

 _Oh yes._

I follow her out and - _no_ _way_ \- speaking of safety, she'll still driving that ancient Volkswagen Bug. I'm sure my displeasure is written all over my face.

She rolls her eyes and looks back at me before getting in. "You remember Wanda. She's a friend. And she's perfectly safe. See you there!"

I double back to my R8, and follow her to the hotel parking lot, which is directly adjacent to the _Thirteen Coins._

I meet up with her in the parking lot as she's getting out of that death trap, and allow myself to put my hand on her lower back as we walk in.

"Adnams Explorer," I order once we're seated at a quiet booth, not needing to look any further down the list of microbrews.

"I'll have the same," she says.

"A beer and not a fruity concoction?" I tease after the waiter walks away.

She shakes her head and meets my eyes, and I can tell she's as ready to _talk_ as I am. "So. The last time I saw you, you were married."

"We're divorced," I say. "Have been for… over three years now."

"Wow," she says softly. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

 _And the blush is back._

"It's just… I'm surprised. I mean, you and Natalie always seemed so _happy_. She was like a big sister to all of us. What happened?"

"Undiagnosed infertility… and we didn't - we just didn't make it through that. Not together anyway."

"Oh. I really am sorry… I'm sure that was hard."

I nod. _Okay, enough about me_. "Where were you?" I ask. "Last I knew you were at UO, and doing really well… I was following your career, and then you just… disappeared."

The waiter arrives with our beers, and she stares into hers for a minute, then traces her finger around the rim of her glass.

"I know. Like I said, it's a long story and… I was married too."

I can feel my jaw drop to the table. I was not expecting this. I can't imagine someone being lucky enough to _marry her_ and then... "So you're divorced too?"

"Um… almost? The paperwork's still being processed."

Oh. "So this is recent?"

She nods. "Yeah, I just left him in February… and I've been trying to get my life back." Taking a sip of the smooth-tasting microbrew, I give him the short, non-BDSM, non- _physical_ version of the story.

"... and I finally realized that it wasn't about love, it was about control. I just couldn't see it clearly until finally - " She stops, unable - or unwilling - to find the words to explain why she left.

"Until finally…" I prompt.

"I thought I was pregnant," she says just loud enough for me to hear her. "I wasn't," she says quickly, "but… I guess it was the wake-up call that I needed."

 _Oh Ana_ … I don't even know what to say, so I just reach past our empty glasses and grasp her hand, give it a squeeze. It seems like we've both had to wade through some shit before making it here. To this place in our lives.

I walk her across the parking lot to the hotel, and we stop in the shadows just shy of the entrance.

"Thanks for tonight," I whisper. I look down and see that she has her bottom lip caught in her teeth again. "Don't bite your lip."

She releases it and smiles sweetly up at me. "What are you going to do about it?"

I reach up and run my thumb along her lip, feeling the slight indents left by her teeth. And then I lean in and… we connect. Her lips are soft against mine and the taste of her matches her scent - apples and sunshine and… Adnams Explorer. I bite down on her lip, as I've been wanting to do for so long, and she gasps. My tongue slides in to explore her mouth, and I feel her tongue answering back. I grasp her hips and pull her flush against me, letting her know _exactly_ how I feel about this kiss. And how I feel about _her._

"Mmmm…" she moans and pushes her soft body against mine, reaching up to grasp the back of my neck.

Reluctantly coming up for air, I rest my forehead on hers. "On Monday, I could be your boss," I whisper.

Her eyes meet mine, and I can tell she's considering our situation. "Well tonight you aren't my coach _or_ my boss… Plus, you've been drinking and… maybe you should come up for awhile?"

Once in her room, which is fairly decent with a king-sized bed and a small living area, there is no denying the chemistry between us. We kiss urgently, and I slide my hand up her side and cup her breast through her thin dress, grazing my thumb across her nipple, feeling it harden with my touch. _She's perfection._

"What are you doing to me?" I whisper.

"I could ask you the same. What are you thinking right now?"

"That I feel like a dirty old man."

She snorts. _Did she seriously just snort?_ "Well maybe I should stop calling you Coach. And you should stop calling me Kid, _Christian_."

" _Anastasia_. This is going to happen, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah it is."

 **A/N: I think we all know what happens next, right? THE END.**

 **Is this a good place to leave it or do you want** _ **MORE?**_

 **(TOTALLY joking by the way... I have like 30K more words written!)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

 **A/N: Because I was so mean yesterday and you all were so nice, here ya go! Another little Friday bonus chapter, one of many more chapters to… come!**

 **Also, gotta brag on my kid for winning his school spelling bee yesterday. He won with the word 'guava,' but my favorite word on the list?**

 **Rapacious (** _ **adj**_ **.) 1. Given to seizing or plunder. 2. Inordinately greedy, predatory. 3. Subsisting by the capture of living prey.**

 **=/=/=/=**

 **APOV**

" _Anastasia._ This is going to happen, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah it is," I practically pant, "Do that again." He smirks and happily obliges, running his thumb across my nipple like before. My body hums in appreciation and there is no pain, _only pleasure._ "You're the only one that's ever been able to -"

 _Shit. When am I ever going to learn to keep my mouth shut?_ We've already talked about infertility and pregnancy scares and controlling relationships tonight. I don't need to add in my touch issues on top of it.

While my mind has been running away with itself, he's been planting kisses along the length of my neck, from my shoulder up to just below my ear. "Ever been able to what?" He asks. When I don't say anything, he pulls back and looks at me with a concerned expression. "Ever been able to what, Ana? Touch you?"

I nod, not taking my eyes off of his, which are now icy cold. I almost expect to see frost form over his steely irises.

"What about your _husband?_ " He asks, practically spitting out the word. "What did he do to you?"

"Not now," I say, pleading with him to let it go. "All I'm thinking about right now is… that time in your classroom? When you skimmed your hand across my butt? It was the first time that I had felt - pleasure - through touch. It was like an electric current straight to my -"

He looks like he wants to continue our conversation, but then I see the anger slowly leave him. His muscles relax and his eyes soften, becoming warm and playful again. "Straight to _where_ , Anastasia?" He reaches around and, like so many years ago, skims his fingers across my butt. But this time he doesn't stop there. He slides his fingers down, lifting my navy dress up, and then back across my satin panties. "Because it's not too far from here…" his fingers skim down the silky fabric…" to here…" and then between my legs until they reach _there_. "To here." He lets his fingers in _that_ spot for a moment, pushing up just slightly, and I move against him, wanting to find some friction against his hand. "Jesus, baby, your panties are _soaked_."

"They were that day too. I had to go home and change them. Did you… I mean, were you…"

"Was I turned on?" He asks, and waits for me to nod. " _Fuck yes_. I wanted nothing other than to lock the door and bend you over my desk. Instead, I had to take care of business _under_ my desk."

 _What? Oh my God._ "You… _masturbated_ over the thought of bending me over your desk?"

He nods and his eyes go from warm to _dark_. _Rapacious._

"Show me. Show me what you wanted to do to me."

In one fluid, predatory motion, he grabs my arm and spins me to face the bed, pushing me forward so that I fall onto the bed from the waist up, my knees on the floor. "That day you were wearing those tight little jeans that hugged your ass. And that t-shirt that showed off your nipples…"

 _And you were wearing a maroon polo shirt and gray dress pants… and you smelled just like you do right now._

"And your smell… like apples and sunshine," he says, and he runs his nose up the back of my neck and up into my hair.

 _Apples and sunshine? Really? Come on…_

"Lift your arms."

I raise my upper body off the bed and comply, feel him lift my dress up and over my head. And then he tugs off my sandals, leaving me in my - mercifully - matching navy panties and bra.

"And those black Chucks… they about did me in every time you wore them."

Hmm… yes, my Chucks. _That can be arranged._

He leans his body into mine, pressing me back onto the bed, and his erection pushes hard against my backside, straining against the fabric of his dress pants. He slides it slowly up and then down, setting my core on fire. _Oh God, I'm gonna combust right here._

"But I wasn't going to fuck you like this," he says.

"You weren't?" I pant. _Don't tell me we're going to go back to talking. Not now!_

"No." he growls, and pulls me back from the bed, gripping me against his chest with one arm. With his free hand, he tugs back the bedspread and top sheet. Standing and pulling me with him, he spins me around again and releases me.

I fall back onto the bed, giggling a little as I bounce against the soft surface. A bed does have _some_ advantages over a desk.

I was going to peel off your jeans and… he stops, cocking his head to one side. "What kind of panties?"

I eyes flick downward… Um, they're navy…? Oh, _those_ panties. Yes, I remember those panties. I blush. "They were um… white cotton? With little pink butterflies on them."

"Were they now? Those… I would have taken off of you, put them in my pocket for later."

 _Seriously? He would have stolen my butterfly underwear?_

His eyes gleam with delight as he slides my panties down my legs and off my feet, brings them to his face, and inhales deeply. _Holy shit._ I can only gape at him as he tucks them into his pocket, looking like a little boy with a prize.

He leans down and kisses me just below my navel, and then works his way up to my chest. "Your whole body _does_ turn pink when you blush," I think I hear him murmur.

"Hmmm?" I ask.

He ignores the question, examining my satin-covered breasts. "The sexy t-shirt _definitely_ would have stayed, but this? May I?"

I nod and arch my back, allowing him to reach around and unclasp my bra. He flings it… _somewhere_ and then his mouth is on my nipple. He probes it with his tongue before taking the whole thing in his mouth, sucking hard.

"Ah!" I gasp, "Christian!"

He pulls back and lets his eyes travel from my face down to _there_. "So many delectable choices…" He murmurs.

I blush again. "I had dreams about you… um, _tasting_ me?"

"Mmm…" he hums as he starts to make his way back down my body.

"But you were naked… you're too dressed," I complain, reaching down to tug at his shirt.

"We'll save that for later then. In my little fantasy? I stay dressed. I was at work, after all." He smirks and starts to undo his belt.

 _Fucking finally!_

Just as he's pulling his pants down his hips, he freezes. "Shit. Fuck, fuck… I don't have a condom."

"It's fine… I'm clean and _I want to feel you._ And I'm on the shot."

The sight of my pills in their little container made me nauseous after _that night_ , so I switched to the Depo shot when I got home. Ready to be done with sex for _a long while_ , I was tempted to go off birth control altogether. But when the doctor mentioned that I would have a lighter or non-existent period on the shot? I was _in_. _And thank goodness._

He's still hovering over me, his face uncertain. "I'm clean too. There hasn't been anyone else since… since I was married."

 _Really?_ Wow. What has he been doing with himself all this time? I mean the man is obviously a _virile_ specimen. _His right hand has probably been getting quite the workout. Does it look bigger than his left one?_

 _Oh my God_. Thoughts about the size of his hands fly out the window when I see what he's just pulled out of his pants. It's HUGE, with thick veins, and the tip of it is glistening with moisture. I watch as he swirls his thumb across the drop of pre-cum, then slides his hand down his length.

I gulp. Audibly. _I mean, José has nothing on this man. I might at well be a virgin, because this thing is gonna rip me…_

"... you sure? ANA."

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were sure."

I nod. "Yes, it's just that it's… um…"

"Big. Yes, I know." He smirks. "But baby, you're ready…" he says, reaching down and pushing a finger, then two, into my opening. He brings his hand back into view and it's dripping with moisture. He holds it up for me to see before licking himself clean. "And…" he says huskily, positioning himself, prodding a little, "You'll stretch."

Before I can even process his words, he thrusts his hips and pushes in. My body tenses reflexively and I grit my teeth. "Are you in?"

He chuckles softly. "No, not even close… baby, you gotta relax. Breathe, Anastasia."

I release my jaw and take a deep breath in, let it out. I open my hips a little and let go of the sheet that I'd grabbed, move my hands up to his butt. I slide them across the fabric of his dress pants, feel the muscles underneath clenched tight.

"Go." I whisper, and I feel him pull back and thrust forward again… _hard._ But this time I'm ready, and I can feel him slide all the way in.

He stops again. "You okay?"

"Yes… GO!" I say, this time more urgently. "I'm on your desk… it's a _quickie_ , remember?"

He growls, and his body comes to life, his hips thrusting forward again… and again… I close my eyes and imagine being on his desk, and a surge of need courses through me. Oh, this is naughty… and it feels _good_.

 _I hook my Chucks around his hips, and my hands move from his ass up to his hair. I run my fingers through his copper curls and then pull him into me, so that he's pressed up against my chest. His mouth finds my nipple through my t-shirt, and I arch my back as sensation rips through me. My hands fly out and send his stapler… and that little cup full of pens and pencils… crashing to the floor. The burning in my core builds and builds…_

"Coach!" I scream out as I explode, riding the waves of my orgasm as it courses on and on, rocking my hips, urging him on.

"Kid," he groans as he thrusts again, finds his release, then collapses, the weight of his body pushing me into the mattress. I hear - no, _feel_ him let out a sob. " _My girl_."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

 _He slips another finger in, and I am breathing fast now, starting to sweat as I meet him thrust for thrust. But I don't want to let up, to lose the spark. And it builds… and builds until I feel like I'm going to drop over an edge… and then I do. My core explodes in a shower of sensations, and I ride it as it swirls around and around. Thrust in, out, in… and hold. Ahhhhhhhh._

 _As I come down, I see gray eyes looking up at me, a mouth held in a satisfied smirk. "That's right Kid… give it to me," he says. "That's my girl."_

I open my eyes, breathing hard, and… _there he is._ It's dark in the room, but I can see the outline of him lying on his side. As my eyes adjust, I can see his strong chin and his broad chest. His sculpted abdomen tapering down to his…

 _Mmm._ I roll onto my stomach and I can feel the moisture between my thighs as I move. This time, it wasn't a dream. After he licked his fingers, he dove in for another taste and then we ended the night with him buried inside me… again.

 **CPOV**

I wake to the sight of Ana - _my girl_ \- sleeping beside me. She's lying on her stomach, her face toward me, her dark hair wild. Her lips are slightly parted, and her breaths are deep and even. She's still sound asleep.

Not wanting to wake her, I adjust my head on my pillow and just watch her sleep. I think only a few minutes pass before she must feel my eyes on her.

She stirs, raising her head slightly, her bright blue eyes looking into mine.

"Good morning," I say, leaning over to kiss her on the temple.

"Mmm… good morning…" she says, her voice husky with sleep. Then her lips quirk up in a little smile. "You're in my bed."

"I'm in your bed."

"And I'm not dreaming… you're really here. In my bed."

"Feels like a dream to me," I say, and then reach out and begin tracing circles on her soft skin. I work my way across from one shoulder to the other, then follow the path with my mouth - across and down her spine. I didn't notice it yesterday, with her clothes on and then in the dim lighting, but she's thin - too thin. I can feel each one of her vertebrae through her skin, like a string of pearls.

I'm about halfway down her back when I notice the first scar. I pull back a little and examine her lower back. She has at least a dozen scars… most are light, barely noticeable, but some are deeper and pink against her pale skin.

I trace my fingers across one of the deeper scars, and I feel her stiffen under my touch.

"Ana," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "How did you get these scars?" I'm not angry… not yet, but I can feel myself start to simmer.

She doesn't say anything, but she rolls over, curling up with her back facing away from me, one arm over her face.

"Ana. Did he do this to you? Your _husband_?" I practically spit out the last word and it feels bitter on my tongue. _Any man who can do this has no right to that title._

She nods, almost imperceptibly, but it's enough. I explode and shoot up, off the bed. This whole time… _this whole time_ that I was wondering about what happened to her. Sitting in my office looking at old photos… while I was whacking off in my shower… He was doing this to her. How dare he take her away and do this to her perfect body? She was _my girl… and he had no right._

I pace back and forth across the room, pulling at my hair. I finally stop when I see her still lying there, watching me, and I realize that she's not just lying there… she's frozen. _She's afraid._

So I force myself to stop, to rein in my fury before I explode. I close my eyes until I feel my breathing even out, and then I move slowly over to her, sitting down next to her on the bed.

"Ana, tell me what happened," I say in the softest and calmest voice that I can manage.

She just looks at me for several moments, then takes a deep breath and begins. "It's a long story… but he wasn't just my husband. He was my _Dominant._ "

Ana tells me about what happened with her step-father, and what led up to her relationship with Jose. How they started off as friends, how he showed her how he could 'help' her that first night in his dorm room, how he slowly changed from a casual friend to a man possessed with owning her. She touches on the various elements of BDSM, familiarizing me with concepts like 'scenes' and 'safewords.'

"Wait," I say, interrupting her for the first time. "It sounds like the safewords are in place as a sort of safety mechanism? To keep things from going too far?"

"They are. They are meant to do that."

"So why didn't you use the safewords?"

"I did, but he stopped respecting them… and he stopped respecting me. And that's when he crossed the line. He crossed the line from domination -"

"To abuse," I finish.

"Yes."

 **APOV**

"Right before he and I… um, I saw you… when you came to watch me run."

He looks at me in confusion, his brow furrowed. "You saw me? When?"

"You came to my meet. I ran the steeplechase… and when I went to look for you after… you were gone."

"Ana - I - How do you know that? I was way up in the stands."

"It's more like I _felt_ you? It was like a tingle… and when I looked up, there you were. You were wearing a hat and sunglasses, but it was _you_."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "I had no idea that you knew I was there. I thought I could come see you - say _hello… nice run… okay, see you later_ \- but I - I just didn't trust myself."

"Why didn't you trust yourself?" He knows I know the answer. But I need him to say it.

"Because, Anastasia, we have a connection. And I know you feel it too. And at the time? I was still married… and you were still so young. And even if I didn't cheat on my wife physically? I did cheat on her emotionally. And I still feel guilty about it." He drops his gaze, and I know he's off somewhere else… to that dark place. _I know that place well._

 _Change the subject… quick!_ "So where do you live, anyway? Is it close to here?"

He looks up and smiles. _He's back._ "It's a little far… not a bad daily commute, but way too far for where I wanted to go last night."

He slides his hand under the sheet and I squeal when he cups my sex, which is still wet and a little sore from last night. After all the punishing fucks from Jose, I wasn't expecting the soreness. But let's just say that Coach - _Christian_ \- is much more blessed in the _manhood_ department.

He shifts his hips, sliding closer to me, and I can feel _that_ part of him pushing against me, probing for admittance. I start to open my thighs, to make room for him, but he hisses and clamps my legs together and pulls away.

"What?" I ask. I mean he wants this, he obviously wants this. The evidence is still poking me in the thigh.

"You're sore. And I'm hungry… _for breakfast._ Don't look at me like that," he says. "And then maybe can can take a drive up to my place? But… it might not be quite what you're expecting."

Hmm, I could go for some pancakes and bacon… and I want to see his place, _his bed_. But what does he mean by _it might not be quite what I'm expecting? Is he a hoarder? Does he have a hundred cats?_

I don't really know what to say, so I just nod.

He rolls carefully over and off the bed, his erection bobbing at attention as he stands. He doesn't show any embarrassment… I mean, with that body, who would? He's sculpted and muscular, with just a smattering of chest hair and a happy trail down below. He has a perfect vee between his hips, which I bet looks amazing in a pair of low pajama pants.

He just gives me a little smirk when he sees me looking, then turns to go into the bathroom, rewarding me with a full view of his fine ass. "I'm going to take a shower… a _very_ cold shower."

I giggle and fall back on the bed, feeling happy that I have this effect on him… and just… _happy_.

I hear the shower turn on, and much as I would like to join him, I know that would not be a good idea. My presence will not help him to get things under control. Or it will lead to other things… and, as much as I will enjoy it… Ugh, my parts could use a little break.

After a few minutes of lying in bed, telling myself all the reasons why I should not go in, I hear the shower turn off. That's my cue to get a move on, so I get up and rummage through my suitcase for some clean clothes. I decide on a pair of skinny jeans, a striped cotton tunic-length tee, and my Chucks.

I hear the bathroom door open and Christian appears, with a towel around his waist, and water droplets still clinging to him. Knowing that any type of contact will get him back where he started, I clutch my clothes to my still-naked body, and skirt around him and into the bathroom.

Girls may have to put up with a lot that guys don't, but at least I can enjoy a hot shower - not a cold, arousal-killing one. I let the hot water stream over my body for a full minute before washing and shaving… everywhere. I shampoo and condition my hair, thinking about Christian's comments about my scent… _apples_. Yep, I have been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I was a little girl.

Finishing up, I get out of the shower and dry off and get dressed. I think that being fully-clothed when I get out of here will be better for both of us. I dry my hair a bit, so that it's just damp instead of soaking wet, and put it up in a ponytail. A little lip gloss… and _there._ _Calm, cool, casual…_

I open the bathroom door, and Christian's sitting at the end of the bed, dressed in his clothes from yesterday, his towel-dried hair looking deliciously messy. He looks me up and down appreciatively. "All set?" He looks as if he wants to ask me something else, but can't quite find the words.

"Um, yeah… I think so. I just need to grab my purse and shoes -"

"Are you checking out or staying here another night?" He asks quickly, sounding a little nervous. _Are you going to stay here or do you want to stay with me?_

"Well the room's reserved until Monday, when I'm supposed to go in and discuss my contract, but -" I sit down and slide on my shoes, avoiding eye contact. When I finally look up, he's smiling at the sight of my Chucks.

"Come stay with me," he says quickly. "My place isn't much, but…"

"Do you have a hundred cats?" I ask.

"Um… no," he says, looking a little confused at the question.

"Because that would be a deal breaker. And yes, I'll stay with you."

 **=/=/=/=**

Twenty minutes later, I'm packed up and checked out and we're in his car, heading out of the Bellevue city center. It's a low, sleek sports car and I run my hand appreciatively over the buttery tan interior. "What kind of car is this?" I ask.

"It's an Audi R8 Spyder… my midlife crisis, post-divorce car, you could say."

I don't know much about cars, but based on the look of it and the low growl of the engine beneath us, I know this one is _way_ out of my price range… out of any _regular_ person's price range.

He must read my thoughts because he says. "I bought it during a tough time… I got divorced and my grandfather Theo passed away. Right before he died, he told me to use my inheritance for something fun... and something for the future.

"So this was the something fun?" I ask, as he guns the engine at a red light.

"Yep," he says, as the light turns green and we roar through the intersection.

"And for the future?"

"We're heading there now," he says. "But first, breakfast."

"Pancakes?" I ask hopefully.

Two minutes later we're pulling in at a low brick building, and the sign reads " **Chace's Pancake Corral**." _Perfect!_

We gorge on 'Bellevue's Best Flapjacks… Three Years Running," trading bites of my maple pecan and his blueberry pancakes. We also have crispy bacon, coffee and sweet, fresh-squeezed orange juice. Feeling perfectly full and a little sticky, we're back on the road, continuing south out of downtown.

"My - _place_ \- is on the other side of Lake Sammamish, and from here it's quickest to hop on I-90," he explains, as he follows the signs directing us to the interstate.

"Okay. I'm not really familiar with the east side… I'm a west side girl," I say, thinking of Ray and our little house in Montesano, of Christian's former home that he shared with Natalie. I know he's thinking about that too, and we both sit quietly, lost in our own memories.

We're only on the interstate for a few minutes before he takes the exit marked **E Lake Sammamish Parkway.** Once we clear the business district clustered close to the interstate, the area has much more of a rural feel. Tall evergreens tower on both sides of the road, and I can catch glimpses of what must be Lake Sammamish off to our left.

After about ten minutes, he takes a right turn onto a gravel road with a sign saying **Private**. There is a cluster of three mailboxes at the entrance to the road. And then we start to climb, up onto what must be a ridge overlooking the lake. Up and up past one house, and then another… and I know his must be at the end of the road.

Finally, we roar to a stop, a cloud of dust settling around us. And we're in an open area on top of the ridge. It looks like two or three acres have been cleared, but it's surrounded by trees on three sides. And there's is no house. _Where is the house?_ And then I look directly in front of us and about fifty feet away, tucked under a large evergreen, is a large metal shed.

"Ohh…" I manage to say. This is not what I was expecting, but… at least it's not a hundred cats.

Christian is watching me, gauging my expression.

"This is your place?" I squeak out.

"Yes," he says firmly, and then gets out and comes around to open my door, reaching in for me. "The future… remember?"

I nod and take his hand. He grasps mine firmly and leads me up, through the scrubby growth. I can see the stumps of trees from where they have been cleared. He continues walking, pulling me along, until we are in the center of the clearing. And then he stops, and turns me around, standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders.

 _And there it is_. I gasp when I take in the view. It's spectacular… with the lake sparking below us, and the land spreading out beyond it - the Sound and the mountains in the distance.

"What do you think?"

I turn and smile at him, lean in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. "It's beautiful. More than I could have ever imagined."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Christian rolls the panel of the shed back along its track, revealing the its interior. We step in and he reaches to the side of the opening, flipping on the lights. It's quite spacious, and actually… _cozy_. The air is cool up here on the ridge, so he quickly slides the panel shut behind us There are two main areas inside the shed. The larger area, to our right, has a white gravel floor. There's a black SUV parked here, and beyond it is a large pile of logs.

I step around the SUV and examine the first log. It's long and straight, bark still clinging to it in places. There's a metal tag nailed into the end of it, **No. 102**. I run my fingers across the tag, and then across the girth of the tree, noting the rings. "Are these from here? From your property?" I ask.

I can feel him standing just behind me, and he reaches around, putting his hand on top of mine. "Yes, and they'll stay here. They're… part of a little project."

I laugh at this and then duck past him, walking along the length of the log pile. There must be well over a hundred logs here. "Wow… so you're going to build a house with these? A log home?"

"Yes… of sorts. But not with raw logs and chinking and a stovepipe," he laughs. "I'm no Abraham Lincoln. I'm building it… with a little help. A little help in the form of a crew of workers, insulated panels, and modern conveniences."

"Tell me about it… I mean, do you have plans drawn up?" I ask.

"Yes, it's an open plan below… stone fireplace and lots of windows, a large deck on the front. And three bedrooms above… modern kitchen and two bathrooms… a hot tub and an outdoor shower in the back." While talking about these last two features, he runs his fingers up the length of my back, making me shiver in anticipation. _Yep, a hot tub and an outdoor shower… I can definitely work with that._

"So you're going to be building soon? This summer?"

"Yes, the logs have been sitting in here aging for the past year. The crew is lined up, and we're due to break ground in a couple of weeks," He says.

I wander back along the logs, toward the other, smaller, section of the shed. It's raised slightly, with a wooden floor. "And in the meantime…" I begin.

"And in the meantime, I'm living… _here_."

' _Here'_ is an area of maybe four hundred feet. There's a bed covered in a colorful patchwork quilt against one wall, a dresser, a couch and TV, a recliner, and then a galley kitchen. There's a door at the other end, which I assume leads to a bathroom. _Thank goodness there's a door!_ It's simple, but it's adequate and not at all bad.

"So what do you think?" He asks, for the second time since we arrived here. "Ready to call the hotel and see if you can get your room back?" He's joking, but I can sense a hint of insecurity in his voice. He's on a crazy adventure here, and he's not taking it for granted that I want to be along for the ride, even for the weekend.

"I think… that I want to be where you are, and that the bed looks pretty comfortable." I say. "What more could a girl ask for?"

He grins at my answer and reaches forward to cup my face, then starts to walk me backwards, urging me along with his body. "Oh baby… I can show you _more_." He says, as I feel the bed against the backs of my legs. He pulls off his shirt, then unbuttons his khaki pants and pulls them off along with his socks and shoes. _Holy shit… he went commando. I guess he didn't have any clean underwear._

"These jeans are nice… not too unlike the ones..." he says, but the tone of his voice says something different, a low growl in his throat. It's obvious that he thinks what's underneath is even nicer, because undresses me with as much speed as himself. He starts to push me back onto the bed, but I duck and spin around.

"Not so fast," I say, and when he turns to face me I push him back onto the bed. _Okay, more like he fell back to humor me, but whatever… he still bounced quite nicely._

I straddle him and run my hands up from his abdomen to his chest. _Hmm… he's beautiful. Now what?_

"I've never been in control before," I say, just as much to myself as to him, and it's a revelation.

"Well I think it's time for you to start, don't you?" He asks.

 _Yes, I do._

 **=/=/=/=**

"What's this?" I ask. I'm sated and comfortable, wearing a pair of my yoga pants and one of Christian's _Montesano Bulldogs Track and Field_ hoodies. It's just like mine, but of course it's huge on me and and smells of Christian. _Yum_. I'm kneeling on the couch, examining a map that he's hung on the wall above it.

He clears his throat, hesitates before answering. "Um, _Natalie_ and I were trying to run a marathon in all fifty states."

I look more closely and note where he's put little colored stickers. _Illinois, Michigan, Ohio, Washington, Oregon, California._ Six in all. "Wow. That's quite the goal. You _were_ trying to, or you _are_ trying to?"

He props his right leg up on the couch and points to a long scar running lengthwise along the top of his knee. "I tore my ACL after the San Francisco marathon and… I think running was the last of what was holding us together. She left - we separated - not long after that."

"I'm sorry," I say. "And what's this?" I run my finger along a highlighted line that runs vertically from the Canadian border to the Mexican border, through Washington, Oregon, and California. The entire length is highlighted in yellow, while a section in Oregon is highlighted in pink.

"It was another goal - hiking the Pacific Coast Trail. I hiked this pink section after... I came to warch you run. And the entire length of it after my wife left, I quit my job, and and you… disappeared."

 _Oh._

"I'm not the only one who's given up a running dream," he says. "Ana, what really happened? You were… at the top of your field, you were an Olympic hopeful."

"I know," I say softly. "I just got… lost. I thought I needed him. I thought that I couldn't function without him."

"What would make you think that? The kid I knew was strong, knew what she wanted."

"Toes on the line… face forward… eyes on the prize," I say. "I guess I looked away, trusted the wrong person, made some bad decisions."

We just stare at the map for a few moments, feeling the weight of our pasts hanging heavy in the air.

"Enough," he says, leaning over and squeezing me around the shoulders. "Let me make us some dinner. You need to eat."

 **=/=/=/=**

Christian grills out steak and veggie kebabs for us on a grill that he has behind the shed. He also has a small table and wooden Adirondack chairs set up on a little concrete patio. It's cooling off, but I'm warm and comfortable in his hoodie and a fleece blanket. I'm physically and emotionally spent, and it feels good to just sit for a little while. "The stars are amazing out here," I say, leaning my head back and just taking it all in.

"Yeah, we far enough away from the city… less light pollution out here. I have a telescope that we can bring out sometime."

We eat in silence, but I can almost hear the thoughts that must be running through his head right now.

"I can practically hear you thinking from here," I joke. "I know it's a lot, but you can ask me anything, Christian."

"Your sexual experiences - BDSM… it's not something I know," he says, speaking slowly as if he's trying to find the words. "Do you think that it's something you need?"

And here we have the million-dollar question. Do I need it? Do I want it? Can I live without it? Do I _want_ to live without it?

"I've been trying to answer these questions for myself in these past months since I came back. It's hard to answer because there are some parts that - of course - I want to leave far, far behind. But those are the parts where he crossed the line from Dominant to _abuser_."

"And you think that you can see now where he crossed that line?"

"Yeah and I think, if I am being honest with myself, I knew it then. But, like I said, I looked away… and I lost myself."

"And before that - the _other_ parts?"

I sigh. _Here we go… all or nothing. No secrets._ "I miss it sometimes."

"Like what?"

"It's a mixture of things, and honestly, it's not the physical parts that I miss the most. Giving over control to another person can be… _freeing_. It's a release. And sometimes when he was jealous? I liked it. I liked feeling that he desired me, that he wanted to care for and protect me. And that can be a very good thing…"

"Until it's not."

"Exactly. Jose saw my weaknesses and took advantage of me. And it happened so slowly, that I don't even think _he_ was aware of it at first. But then… it's like he fed on that power and got greedy for it."

"Tell me about the physical parts. The ones you miss."

"I miss that mix of pleasure and pain. It's very… satisfying and it meets a need in me that I can't even really explain. And - you know - toys? Those can be _very_ fun if you use them correctly."

"Toys? Like what?"

"Ohh… my favorites were leather cuffs, floggers, crops… spreaders."

"Spreaders?"

"Um, to -" I bury my face in my hands. "Oh gosh, I've always been on the receiving end of this. I've never had to explain myself before. It's like an expandable bar, with ankle cuffs? And it holds the person's legs…"

Christian clears his throat and I can see him shift in his chair, adjust himself.

"Is this turning you on?"

"Maybe."

 **=/=/=/=**

"Loop that end over… now under… good. Now tighten it." I'm on all-fours, instructing Christian on how to tie me to the bedpost. He's using his Bellevue High School navy and gold striped tie. This seems a little… topping from the bottom? _But I think it just might be worth it._ Christian's concentrating fully, the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his teeth.

I'm completely naked, my hair in a braid, and he's stripped down to his sweatpants. The way he looks right now… I'm about to spontaneously combust. He stands back to admire his handiwork, and his gaze is dark and… _he's pitching quite the tent._

"Now kneel behind me, and -"

Christian holds up one hand to silence me, and then leans over to check my bindings. _Okay… we already talked about what we were going to do in the scene. He's got it from here._

He climbs onto the bed behind me, traces the length of my spine with one finger, and then his hand comes down and... pats my ass.

"What was that, Grey?" I growl. "Harder!"

I feel his hand leave my ass and come back down, and this time I feel the sting as his palm connects. And it reverberates through my body and right to my core. "Yesss…" I pant. "Again."

He rubs his hand in a circular motion, and - _slap_! - again… and again.

"Good… now -"

"Hush," he says, and I feel him reach up and grab my braid with one hand while positioning himself at my entrance with the other. "FUCK… Ana!" He shouts as he thrusts, sheathing himself completely.

Between the stinging on my ass, the burning of my scalp from his grip on my hair, and - _him_ \- I come almost instantly, combusting as my knees buckle and I start to sink onto the mattress, but the binding holds tight. "Ah!" I cry as I feel him thrust twice more and then collapse on top of my back.

He slips out of me and rolls over to the side, looking expectantly at me like he's waiting for his grade. "How was that?" He asks.

"Good…" I giggle. "A-plus. Maybe next time we'll last more than twenty seconds. Now, aftercare… can you -" I use my head to gesture to my hands.

"Oh! Of course…" and he carefully loosens the bindings before removing the tie from my wrists. His brow furrows when he sees the small red marks left on my skin, and he leans in and kisses each one.

"Christian? I think you just might be a natural Dominant," I say, and I can feel the grin that's spreading across my face. _Oh yes, he - this - definitely has potential._

 **=/=/=/=**

I swipe my hand across the steamed-up mirror, trying in vain to see myself clearly while applying my eyeliner. It's Monday morning - Memorial Day - so technically the school is closed, but I'm going in for paperwork at 9:00. I'm dressed in Bellevue High School colors again, with a white and gold shirt and navy linen pants. Maybe I should wear _that tie_ looped around my neck. I quickly check my wrists to make sure the marks are gone, picturing the bold colors against my skin, and they are.

My hair is wild from the humidity, little tendrils springing out all around my head. I quickly twist it into a bun, securing it with several bobby pins that I have managed to find at the bottom of my cosmetics bag.

Christian comes in just as I am securing the last bobby pin. "Sorry it gets so steamy in here… it's not vented properly and I've been meaning to get to it."

"It's okay, I've got it," I say, turning around and giving him a quick peck on the lips, and a taste of my cherry lip gloss. "You gonna give me a ride to my car or what?"

"I can just take you to the school, Ana. The hotel's out of the way… we can go there after?"

"Umm… I'm thinking that I need to show up at the school on my own, Christian. Can't have them knowing that I was shacking up with you all weekend. I was supposed to be apartment hunting, and I was going to go to IKEA…"

He rolls his eyes. "No. No apartment and NO IKEA. That cheap Swedish stuff is crap."

I stick my lower lip out in a pout. "I like it… and what do you mean, no apartment?"

He doesn't say anything, just searches my face with those gray eyes, his expression hopeful… and adorable. _Irresistable._

"Are you sure? Are you asking me to move in with you?" I turn and leave the bathroom with him following.

"I thought - I thought you said you wanted to be where I was? And that my bed was _comfortable_." Now he's the one pouting.

"Yes… I mean, for the weekend and for fun, but - it's only been two days, Christian. Are you sure we're ready for this? You have your whole - _life_ \- going on with building your house and your _guy_ things," I say, gesturing toward an ATV and a gun rack, a collection of tools in one corner of the shed.

He smirks. "Ana, that ATV is mostly for doing work around the property… hauling rock, plowing snow… not for joy riding. And the guns are for target practice and going out to hunt wild turkeys with my brother like once a year. Do you not want to be a part of - all this - the cramped living quarters, the construction..."

I put one finger up to his lips to shush him, picture him shirtless and sweaty, wielding a chainsaw. _Yeah, I can live with it._ "It's not that at all. If you want me here, then I want to be here. I have two more weeks of student teaching, but after that -"

"So that's a yes? You'll move in here with me?"

"Yes… yes, YES!" I squeal, as he lifts me up and twirls me around in a circle.

 **=/=/=/=**

Christian gets his way, dropping me off at the school about ten minutes before my meeting with Principal Hobbes.

I feel like a petulant teenager when I have him pull over just after we enter the circular drive. "Just drop me off here, okay. And don't come in!" I hiss.

Christian rolls his eyes at me, but gives into my demands. He leans over and gives me a soft kiss. "If we're going to be… _together_ , you know everyone's going to find out eventually, right?"

"I know, but let me get this contact signed first, okay? I don't want to blow this before I even get started."

He nods. "Text me when you're done."

The contract is pretty standard, including figures for a first year teacher's salary. I take a moment to read it over, the **$38,500.00** staring back at me in bold print. _It's more than I've ever made before, and it's about what I was expecting, but seriously… Is this all we're paying teachers? Oh well, it's not like I'll have too many expenses if I move in with Christian. I might even be able to afford a new car…_

"Everything look all right, Ana?" he asks, interrupting my runaway thoughts.

"Oh yes… it's fine. I was actually looking and - I mean, I don't see anything about a _no fraternization_ policy," I say, trying to keep my voice even and neutral.

He shifts in his chair, and I can tell he's thinking about what to say. "Well, no… of course we expect that any… _relationships_ will not interfere with the workday or the - _professionalism_ \- of our staff. Even if there were a policy in place, any - um - previous relationships, even ones very _recently_ established? They would, of course, be grandfathered in."

His face is growing redder as he speaks, and I can tell that the subject is embarrassing him a little. Even if he suspects that Christian and I - _fraternized_ \- over the weekend, it's a good thing he doesn't know the details of what went on in that shed!

"Oh good. Well in that case… a pen?" I quickly scrawl my signature, and I am officially an employee of the Bellevue School District.

I realize halfway through the pile of mind-numbing forms that I don't know Christian's address. I consider texting him, but decide to just put down my address in Montesano. I'm afraid that putting Christian's address will be more than Hobbes can handle right now.

 _Heck, I can hardly believe it myself._ I sign the last form with a flourish and lean back in my chair. Done. This weekend has been quite the ride… _and it's just the beginning._

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed this little taste of domestic bliss!**

 **I made a small correction to Chapter 14, after realizing that Christian arrived at the hotel in one car and left in another.** _ **Whoops**_ **… and no Taylor here to conjure the switch!**

 **If you're following me on Facebook, you know that I broke my finger on Tuesday. Next time, I will say NO to cross-country skiing and stay home and write… one-handed.**

 **Anyway, I am headed into surgery this morning to get it patched up. Hoping to keep up with my updates, but if I lag behind, this is why! Fortunately, this chapter was mostly written already, but others are not. Grr. It's a real pain in the… finger!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Kate and I are at the Biscuit Bitch in downtown Seattle for a late brunch on my way back to Montesano. She says we need to celebrate my new job with mimosas, _and I need to fill her in on… other events._

"I can't decide between the _Cheesy Pork n' Bitch_ and the _Hot Mess Bitch_ ," I say. _Although maybe_ Easy Bitch _is more appropriate after this past weekend._

"The _Hot Mess Bitch… definitely_ ," says Kate as the waitress approaches. "A _Smokin' Hot Bitch_ , a _Hot Mess Bitc_ h, two sides of fried SPAM, and two mimosas."

"It sounds like you just ordered us up a couple of hookers," I giggle, handing over my menu.

We clink our glasses together in a toast before digging into the greasy goodness on our plates.

"To new beginnings," Kate says, grinning brightly at me over her glass. "I'm so proud of you."

"Mmm. Thank you, Kate. It all happened so fast - it made my head spin. So... speaking of new beginnings… Um, did I mention that Coach Grey is the athletic director there?" I ask, trying to sound as if I'm making casual conversation.

Kate freezes with a forkful of _Smokin' Hot Bitch_ halfway to her mouth. "What?!"

"Yeah… it's great. He just started that job last year, and now we'll be working together."

"Wait, wait… so as in _Coach Hottie?_ As in the man you've had a crush on for like _seven_ years?"

"Mmm hmm," I hum as I chew on a mouthful of my _Hot Mess Bitch_.

"So, did you see him? Did you talk to him? How was it?"

"Yeah, and it was fine… he was _good_."

"Just fine?" Kate cocks her head and narrows her eyes at me. _Oh here we go…_ "Is he still hot?"

"Mmm hmm." _Oh yeah he is._ And then I can feel myself blushing as I remember how his - _Shit_.

"ANA. What. The. Fuck. Spill it."

I take a sip of my mimosa, my liquid courage. "I might have spent the weekend with him?"

"Wait, so he's not still married?"

"Nope."

"And you spent the weekend with him? At your hotel or at his house?"

"Both? Except that it's not a house, exactly? It's more of a shed, but on this _amazing_ property..." and I launch into telling her all about it. "... and I know it all seems fast, but it just feels like…" What _does_ it feel like? "Like we've already waited long enough, you know? It just feels _right_. And before I left this morning… he asked me to move in with him."

To her credit, Kate hears me out, quietly eating her brunch as I talk. She finishes her mimosa, and finally nods, letting me know that she's heard what I'm saying. She may not totally understand or agree. After all, I don't have the best history when it comes to relationships. But she also knows that it's always been _him_ for me.

"Just take it at your own pace, okay?" She asks.

Kate pulls me in for a hug in the parking lot of the _Biscuit Bitch_ , tells me that she's happy for me _and_ that she'll be checking up on us. Maybe I'll invite her to come eat steaks with us behind the shed. _That ought to be interesting._

I pull Wanda into traffic on I-5 South, heading toward Montesano and... _Ray_. I called him on Friday to let him know that I got the job offer, but that's the last time we talked. And I'd better fill him in myself, before he runs into Kate at the _Bulldog Brew_ again.

Ray's in the living room, a Mariners game blaring from the TV, when I walk in the back door. He starts to get up, but I wave him off and head straight upstairs, Charlie at my heels. Shutting the door firmly behind us, I take a moment to wander around my childhood bedroom. How many times have I left this room behind as I headed off for somewhere new? And every time, it's been here patiently waiting for my return. Will this be the time that I finally leave for good? Because I finally find where I'm supposed to go? _I hope so._

I quickly strip off my blouse and slacks, pull on my sweats, and wander into my little en suite bathroom. I lean against the counter, peering at my reflection in the oval mirror above the sink. I look the same as when I left three days ago - a girl who's healing, who's getting the color back in her cheeks - but I _feel_ different. I feel happy and what? _Complete. And a little sore._

I head back into my bedroom and dig out my phone, feeling a stupid grin stretch across my face when I see a message from _him_.

 **3:53 PM**

 **Let me know when you're home safe, please. XO**

I send him a quick reply knowing - _feeling_ \- that he'll be waiting for my text.

 _ **Safe and sound. Wanda took good care of me. X**_

I stare at my phone, waiting for his reply. I miss him already and it's been… less than four hours. The next two weeks are going to be hard, but I need to finish up my student teaching. And I need to spend some time with Ray, talking things through and stocking his freezer.

 **We'll discuss Wanda when you return. What are you wearing?**

Oh my. _Maybe the long-distance thing won't be so bad after all._

 _ **=/=/=/=**_

 **Two weeks later…**

Ray shuts my car door and leans in, resting his tanned forearms on Wanda's hood. It's taken hours of talking, three cherry pies, and two _long_ days spent fishing, but I think he's coming around.

"Off you go," He says. "Annie, you've always known your own mind. And I believe you when you say that you trust this man."

"Thanks, Daddy. I do."

"And you know that you can always come back home."

"I know." And I know that he's thinking of the two other times - _the two other men_ \- that hurt me when I went away.

"Love you, kiddo," he says, and finally stands and steps away.

"I love you too," I say, my vision starting to blur. And I got out of there before we _both_ turned into puddles on the driveway.

 **=/=/=/=**

I grind my way up the private lane, Wanda coughing and protesting the whole time. When the cloud of dust and exhaust clears, I'm rewarded by the most beautiful sight. Christian is sitting in a lawn chair, the door of the shed rolled part-way open on this warm and sunny day.

He grins and walks over to my door, pulling me up and into his arms as soon as I can get the door open.

"You're really here," he says, leaning in and kissing me softly along my jaw. "I was half afraid your father wouldn't let you go."

"I'm really here… and it was a close one. I had to promise him a trip up here to check things out. Complete with steaks and beer _and_ fishing."

"That can be arranged," he says, peering into Wanda's back seat. "Is this all your stuff?"

"Yeah, just my clothes and my books… the necessities. I don't really have a lot." _And what I do have belongs to my childhood or was left behind in Panama._

"Well, let's get your things inside and we can get you settled in, just hang out, or…" His eyes keep wandering back to my powder-blue baby.

" _Wanda_ is a classic car… she's a _vintage_ VW Beetle. Plus, she's in practically the same condition as when I left for college. I never took her with me."

"And that condition was _unacceptable_. Ana, please… new job, new car."

"I just signed my contract… I haven't gotten a paycheck yet," I protest.

"You can get something new for zero down."

"I don't - I don't have good credit," I stammer. " _He_ took out some loans in my name and -" I can feel the color rising in my cheeks. This is so humiliating.

"I'll co-sign. Please. Heck, if you'd let me buy you a car, I would, but I know -"

"And you would be right. Okay… fine. I'll go look at cars with you."

"Right now?" His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. Oh, I've gotten myself involved with a _car guy_.

"Right now." _Besides, I am not entirely sure that Wanda will make it up this hill again._

 **=/=/=/=**

Christian insists on driving, even though it's _my_ car that's the trade-in. He cruises slowly along the row of car dealerships that line the frontage road near Southcenter Mall.

"Audi?" He asks, sounding hopeful.

"NO."

"BMW… Range Rover…"

"No and NO. Come on, there must be some 'regular people' dealerships around here somewhere… Ooh! Subaru!"

Christian grimaces a little, but he pulls into the car lot, easing his R8 into a spot near the sales door. We are immediately greeted by a very eager-looking, twenty-something salesman. "Hiya, folks… I'm Weston. What can I do for you today? We've got some great deals going on… _fabulous_ incentives."

Based on torrent of effeminate speech and the way that he's eagerly eyeing the car _and_ my man, I can tell that Weston bats for the other team. I look at Christian's face and he's smirking as Weston looks him up and down. I think he's glad that at least Weston won't be hitting on _me_.

"Um, we're looking for a car for _me,_ " I say, drawing Weston's eyes to me for the first time.

"Wonderful. And will you be trading this _lovely vehicle_ in?" He asks, practically salivating over the R8.

"NO, she won't," says Christian.

"I have a lovely, vintage 1967 Volkswagen Beetle. Original paint and engine," I say proudly. "And for the right price -"

Weston's face falls at Wanda's description, but then brightens as changes the subject. "Alrighty then… let's have a look at our line-up. As you may know, all Subarus are standard all-wheel drive. What kind of car are you looking for?"

"Well the four-wheel drive will be good… we live on top of a pretty steep road. Um, nothing too big… something that says _me_. I'll know it when I see it," I say confidently as we begin walking along the rows of cars.

And, suddenly, there she is… my new little girl. She's sitting by herself at the end of a row of dark-colored SUVs. She is a little hatchback wagon, and gloriously bright orange. It is love at first sight.

Christian follows my gaze, and he can tell by the look on my face that I'm a goner. "Ana, are you sure? I mean, I'm sure it comes in a variety of - colors."

"There are other car colors besides black, you know," I say, running my fingers lovingly along Hazel's shiny hood. "And orange is cheerful and… safe."

"This is a 2017 Impreza Wagon… all the bells and whistles… heated seats… XM Radio… integrated entertainment and phone… leather…" chirps Weston from behind us.

I manage to shut my mouth to avoid squealing in delight over her. This is a business transaction, after all. "I might be interested," I say. _And her name is Hazel._

 **=/=/=/=**

We found a vintage car dealer in Tacoma who was willing to trade piece of my soul for a sweaty handshake and $500 cash. After waving good-bye to Wanda, I drove us in Hazel, my brand new car, to the nearest running store.

"I have $500 in my pocket and I need new shoes… and so do you," I say, as I park her perfectly in front of the storefront advertising _Brooks, Nike,_ and _Runner's World_ magazine.

"I have running shoes -" Christian starts to protest, but I cut him off.

"If you haven't run in over a year, then they're no good. The rubber gets old, and the life of the shoe is compromised. Didn't your track coach ever teach you anything?" I joke.

"Fine… you win. So does this mean we're going to start running together?"

"I'd like to… I'm out of shape too, and you said there were lots of old logging roads up by your place?"

 _"Our_ place," he corrects. "And yes, there are trails. There are lots of - things - I'd like to explore with you," he says, taking my hand and sinking his teeth into my palm.

One hour later and $200 lighter, we both have new running shoes and sign-up sheets for running the "Beat the Bridge" 5K in one month, which is a family-friendly race where runners try to beat the ship canal bridge before they raise it in an hour's time.

"There's just one more place I wanted to go," I say. "I mapped it earlier and… there it is!"

Christian smiles when he sees where I'm headed. _The Lovers' Package._ I've never actually shopped for - _toys_ \- before, but I know what I like.

"If we're buying this stuff, it's going to be on _me_ ," Christian says firmly. "So put your money away."

"And to be used on _me_ ," I say softly. And my skin prickles in anticipation.

 **A/N: Thank you for your kind thoughts and patience this past week. I am on the mend… still tapping away one-handed, but feeling better every day!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

 **A/N: Thank you for your patience! I am going to shoot for posting on Tuesdays and Fridays… and see how it goes. Unfortunately, I tend to think as fast as I type. And right now, that is S-L-O-W!**

 **In other news, my kid advanced in his spelling bee this morning… from district to county! His qualifying word was** _ **antecedents**_ **:)**

 **=/=/=/=**

Once we enter the _Lovers' Package_ , the clerk - a young man with purple hair and multiple piercings - calls out to ask if we need help finding anything.

"Nothing in particular," I answer, then say more softly to Christian,"It's overwhelming for me too."

He examines a shelf of vibrators, then moves on to a display of cuffs, picking up a few to test their weight in his hands.

In the beginning, José and I talked about things we thought sounded fun. We even spent time poring over websites, buying cheap products from China with our limited student funds. Later on, of course, he didn't accept any input from me. He claimed that he knew what I needed, and I trusted his judgment. A lot of it I did enjoy… the flogger with the beaded ends, the little 'red riding crop,' and the fur mitt. But then the implements got harsher over time, the látigo _whip_ and the caña _cane_ being responsible for the majority of the marks on my back.

Hopefully, as the Dominant, Christian will eventually select and purchase what we need. So, I follow behind his as he explores the rest of the store, making hints when I see something I like. It's like the childhood game of _hot and cold_ , where I make a little hum of appreciation when his eyes or hands land on certain items. Eventually, we ended up with an egg-shaped vibrator _with 21 settings for her pleasure!_ , a braided riding crop, fur-lined leather cuffs, and a 3-pack of silk blindfolds.

 **=/=/=/=**

I crested the top of the ridge first, coming out into a large clearing. The area had been clear cut, maybe five years ago, and there were small saplings growing among the carnage of ancient trees. "I'm never using paper again," I proclaim, leaning over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

Christian comes to a stop beside me and laughs. "You're planning to be a teacher, right?"

 _Smartass._ I decide to ignore him and ask, "How's the knee feeling?"

"Good as new. My lungs, though… whew!"

"I hear you there. We're both out of shape, but we'll get there."

We poke around the clearing a little, finding a patch of black raspberries. The fruit is sweet and warm from the sunshine, and we eat our fill.

Back at the shed, I eye the bright pink _Lovers' Package_ bags that we placed in one corner after arriving home from shopping. I look from the bags to Christian and quirk an eyebrow. _I'm ready when you are._

"Showers first. I'm pretty ripe after that forced march," he teases.

"Fine. We'll get clean… and then we'll get dirty."

 **=/=/=/=**

This time, I don't give Christian any instructions before beginning the scene. I shower first, and after I get out, I braid my hair and slide on a pair of black lace panties. And then I go kneel by the foot of the bed, facing away from the bathroom door, palms up. And I wait, letting my breathing level out, just listening to the sound of the shower running.

I hear the water turn off and then the bathroom door open. I hear a sharp intake of breath as he notices me, but I don't move. I just wait, looking down at the tops of my thighs. Wait for him to come to me.

He shuffles around softly, and I hear a dresser drawer open and close, the rustle of a plastic bag.

"Anastasia, I'm going to blindfold you now," he says softly. _Anastasia_ … I like it. I realize that it's nice change from _mi amor_. It seemed so sweet and _personal_ at first, especially since _he_ called me that when we were still just friends. _But I never want to be called that name again._

 **=/=/=/=**

 _ **One month later...**_

"Mmm... harder, Christian. Can you go deeper?" I've got my eyes closed, rolling my head side to side to relieve the tension in my neck and upper back. "Yesss... that's the spot."

I open my eyes to see him rubbing _Icy Hot_ into the tops of my thighs in an attempt to ease the cramping.

We've managed to find a little spot in the grass in the crowded post-race area. We have our metallic warming blankets, bottles of Gatorade, bananas, power bars, and a container of _Icy Hot._

Christian continues to rub the salve into my skin, moving down to my lower legs, which aren't much better off than my thighs. But he's not looking at what he's doing, in fact he seems kind of zoned out. I follow his gaze, and there's a young couple across the open space from us. The woman has obviously just finished the race as well, she's wearing sweaty running clothes, a medal around her neck, and a huge smile.

Her husband, presumably, is kneeling at her side, holding the hands of a baby girl. She's bouncing up and down on her chubby legs, and looks as if she's ready to take her first steps any time. There's a jogging stroller stuffed to the brim with gear beside them.

I look back at Christian and he's still staring at them, a wistful expression on his face. And then he suddenly remembers himself, and turns his attention back to my left calf.

"Mmm... thank you," I say. "I think I'm all set. Do you need any? Happy to return the favor."

He sighs and shakes his head. "Naw, I'm good. You ready to get going?"

"In a minute. The sun feels good," I say, tilting my chin up to the sky. I really just want to sit here for a few minutes, because my mind is racing. He was watching that family because he wants that, the whole package. He wants a baby. I know he talks about the whole fertility issue as something that _she_ wouldn't give up. But what about him? Surely he wanted it too, at least in the beginning.

This past month has been perfect… idyllic. We've been in our little bubble up on our ridge. Christian has been working alongside the crew, and the stone foundation for the house is nearly complete. Kate and Ray have each been up to visit, and after the initial awkwardness over him being my _former teacher_ , everyone relaxed. And I'm sure it's because they can tell that I'm truly happy - and on my way to being _whole_ \- for the first time in a long time.

I've been working three days a week at the _Half-Price Books_ store at Crossroads Mall. Even though I end up spending almost as much as I make on _irresistible_ bargain books, it keeps me busy. In truth, it also keeps me from ogling sweaty-shirtless-work-jeans-and-gloves-Christian all day. It's distracting for both of us, and he has a lot to get done this summer. He hopes to have the house framed-in and enclosed by winter.

I hear him sigh, and I open my eyes just a crack to see him gazing at the young family again.

I finally decide just to go for it. Take the opening that's been offered to me. "She's a little cutie, huh?" I say.

"Who is?"

"The baby that you've been watching for the last ten minutes," I say.

"Oh... sorry, didn't mean to ignore you but yeah, she is. She looks like she wants to take a step so badly."

"You want that, don't you? It's still in you... wanting a family, the whole… deal."

He turns his gaze to me and he looks a little... _embarrassed? Pained?_ "Yeah... I do. But I don't know if I can... if we could... or if you would even want to."

"Of course... I mean, maybe not right away. But in a year or two?"

He sits for a moment, just taking it all in, wondering if he dares to let hope in again. "And if we can't? If I can't?"

"If this," I point my finger back and forth between us, not even able to voice my thoughts. _If we make it? If we stay together?_ "Then we'll find a way. There are other options... and we have two extra bedrooms to fill."

He smiles, and it's the signature Christian Grey panty-dropping smile that I love. He leans over and kisses me softly. "I would love nothing more, but if not..." He pauses. "Sometimes when I walk around the property or through the house it feels like... it feels like there's the spirit of a little boy with me."

"A little boy? Like a ghost?"

"No, more like a _premonition_. A little boy who comes _next_ , following in the footsteps of his long line of antecedents, _biological or not_. He's usually wearing overalls and his little bare feet are padding along the wood floors or through the grass. I used to imagine the same sort of thing, when you were gone. Imagine helping you out of the car, or walking into the grocery store with you."

"And here I am."

"And here you are."

I smirk, feeling like it's time to lighten the mood. "A boy, huh?"

 **=/=/=/=**

On our way back from the race, Christian says that he needs to swing by his office to pick up a few files. He pulls into the empty parking lot, taking a spot in the shade. "Be right back," he says, moving to get out of the car.

"You don't want me to come in with you?" I ask. Since I moved in with him a month ago, we do pretty much everything together unless one of us is working.

He shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. "It'll just take a sec… I just thought…"

"You don't want me to see your office," I say. And there it is again - he's squirming. "Why? Does this have anything to do with the _shrine to me_ in your office?"

"It's not a shrine," he scoffs. "It's just some photos… highlighting my _coaching career_."

 _I knew it!_ "Show me. I want to see it."

I walk slowly along the huge cork board that covers nearly one whole wall of his office. If I wasn't so tuned into looking for myself, it would appear to be a random collection of photos and newspaper clippings. But, on closer inspection, I can see that a good third of his collection is of or about _me_. There is one photo in particular, obviously taken during a college meet, where I am waiting to be called to the line. I look fierce and intent, hands on my hips, staring straight ahead. _Toes on the line… eyes on the prize._

"What happened to you?" I whisper to my younger self.

I feel a pair of strong arms encircle my waist, pull me in close. "I think she's making a comeback. _Both_ of us are."

 **=/=/=/=**

That night, with my belly full from my celebratory, post-race cheeseburger, I'm replaying our conversation from earlier over in my mind.

"Do you think she knows about us?" I blurt out, forgetting that he hasn't been privy to my thoughts.

"Does _who_ know?"

"Natalie." Saying her name out loud brings back flashes of her, memories that I buried long ago. Her laughing with us, encouraging me, _driving_ me to better myself. My complete and total envy of her. That she had _him_ when I couldn't. "What happened to her?"

He sighs and runs his hands through his hair, and I wonder just how often she's on his mind. And how heavily the guilt weighs on his heart. "She remarried… maybe six months ago? I think she's happy… they both live and work in Seattle."

"Do you still talk to her?"

"No. But Natalie has a twin… an identical twin sister, Olive. Did you know that?"

 _This is news to me, but what does it have to do with staying in contact with his ex-wife?_ I shake my head.

"Olive is married to Matt, my best friend from college… Maybe I've mentioned him? They live up in Bellingham?"

 _Right… yes, Matt. His college buddy._

"Anyway, back in the day, I guess we were all like family, being married to twins and all. We would spend holidays together, vacation together… But when Matt and Olive started having babies and we couldn't… it was hard for us. Hard for Natalie especially, to be around them all the time. I guess we drifted apart some… blamed it on scheduling or whatever."

"But you're friends with them now. Have you told them about _us_?"

"Yes… and no. I told them that I'm seeing someone, that it's serious?" He shifts a little in his seat. "But Olive is still… a little sensitive? A little protective of her sister? I think she took the break-up worse than we did. And once I tell them…"

Once he tells them, Natalie will know. Yikes, it's a lot to take in. Now I'm not only worried about the ex-wife, but her _protective_ identical twin.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

 _ **Two months later… Mid-August 2017**_

I'm barely out of the car after working at the bookstore when Christian strides up to me and grabs my hand, practically pulling me toward the building site. I have to jog a couple of steps to catch up to him, or else risk falling face-first into the gravel.

"Keep your pants on, Grey," I say in a half-giggle, half-growl. _Or don't keep them on… whatever._

He ignores me and continues to pull me up the short slope, only stopping when we are in full view of the new house. _The new house._ And I realize why he was in such a rush to show it to me. It finally looks like a house… not a pile of stone and timbers. The actual structure of it, as was explained to me, is an oak timber frame. And today, for the first time, it's standing tall and proud.

I notice that the workers' trucks are all gone, the worksite quiet. Usually, they take advantage of every bit of the long summer days. "Where is everyone?" I ask.

"Elsewhere. Come," he says, and tugs me forward again, over the rutted ground and up the stone front steps, stepping into what will be the entryway.

I notice a small pile of curly wood shavings at my feet and look up. Freshly carved into the lintel is a bold **2017**. "Oh wow… 2017" is all I can manage, as I take a look around me.

The great room, with its huge stone fireplace opens to our left. To our right is a smaller room, which could be a dining room or an office, and beyond that will be the kitchen. The open stairway will be directly in front of us, but it's not even roughed in yet. Only the beams are in place, giving suggestions of what is to come.

"Yes, 2017, the year this house - and _we_ \- were established," he says softly, stepping up behind me and pulling me in close.

This summer has been perfect - amazing. We've been able to spend long evenings talking, having deep conversations about ourselves, our pasts, our hopes for the future. Sometimes it's just sipping beers while poring over house plans or searching online for our next race. And sometimes we're faced with more difficult topics, ones that dredge up old feelings. Just last week, I received notification that my divorce from Jose was final. He is still in Panama, awaiting sentencing, but legally I am freed of him. I hadn't felt married to him for a long time - if _ever_ \- but knowing that bond was broken lifted a weight I hadn't even realized was there.

He leads me further into the house and there, hanging from a high peg, is a long piece of thin twine. He takes the free end of the twine and loops it around the fourth finger of my left… _oh God._

"Anastasia," he says, while tying the twine in a perfect knot around my finger, "you are my past and my present. And I want us to look forward, into the future, as _one._ "

He looks up at me after he finishes tying the knot, and I can only nod, wiping my eyes with my free hand.

"I know that, officially, we've only been together for a few months, but I know - and I hope you feel it too - that we're meant to be. Will you marry me?"

I nod again, and I can feel the tears as they stream down my cheeks.

He leans in and kisses me softly. "Let me hear you, baby. Tell me you'll marry me."

"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you," I manage to squeak out.

With this, he leans away from me and tugs firmly on the twine. Something shiny - _something that's sparking in the setting sun_ \- slides down the twine and lands perfectly on my finger.

I squeal with delight, examining the ring as he unties the twine, not just because the ring is gorgeous, _but because it's from_ _him and it means forever_. The man I love, the man that I've _always_ loved. I reach up and pull him in for a kiss, deepening it to express how much I love him. "I love you so much," I say, finally pulling away.

"And I love you."

"It's SO beautiful," I say, turning around in a circle, talking about the ring, the house… our future. The oak beams are arching above us, golden in the early-evening light. "I wish we could just get married right here… just as it is right now. Simple and perfect."

Christian considers this for a moment. "Why can't we?"

"Because by the time we get married, it'll be all closed in and it won't be the same," I sigh.

"Not if we do it soon…" _Uh oh, I can see the wheels turning now._ He starts to pace back and forth, examining the space. "Cal hosts a back-to-school barbecue for the staff, and it's always the weekend between the initial staff meeting and when school starts, so people will already have the date on their calendars."

"Christian, that's three weeks away."

"I know… but like you said, with the exposed beams… and the light is perfect. I don't think anyone would bat an eye if we host the barbeque. A christening of the new house?"

"You mean, like... it'll be a surprise?"

"Exactly and - like you said - just have it be _simple._ Like "Everyone gathers round… we say our vows… now 'let's chow down.'"

I'm trying to keep a straight face. After all, his idea is crazy. It's CRAZY. "It's crazy… but I love it," I finally say, no longer able to hide my grin. "And I love you. But do we have to say 'chow down'?"

"Whatever you want, baby."

 _Hmmm…_ I walk around, looking at the space with new eyes. The fireplace makes a natural altar, flowers on the beams, candles… _Yes, it's perfect._

"But don't you need to start installing the insulated panels soon?"

"We can hold off on that, work on putting in the concrete for the pathway and patio. It'll be nice to have for the _wedding_ anyway."

I smile at his emphasis on the word wedding. _I can't help it… I'm a goner!_

"I'm gonna call my dad and Kate. Omigosh…" I squeal. "My dad can give me away, and Kate can stand up with me."

"And I'll call Cal and my family."

"But they'll be the only ones who know?"

"Yep, everyone else will get an invitation to the school year kick-off barbecue."

Oh… yes. It's _us_ , doing it our way and at our own pace. _It's perfect._

 **=/=/=/=**

The following week, Christian takes me over to the school so that I can take stock of what's there and plan the space. After unlocking the classroom door for me, he heads to his office to do some work.

The room is clean with shining linoleum floors and what looks like fresh paint on the walls, but it's lifeless and bare. There's a teacher's desk and rows of student desks, a pencil sharpener and a wastebasket, but that's all. Long bookshelves line the wall beneath the windows, but they're empty, as are the desk drawers.

Just as I'm shutting the last drawer, I hear a voice from the doorway. "Hello? I thought I heard someone in here. I'm Colleen Flynn? I teach English composition."

I look up and it's a woman with curly auburn hair. She looks to be in her mid-thirties... about Christian's age.

"Oh, hi there, please come in," I say, meeting her halfway to shake her hand, while tucking my left hand in my pocket. I'm not ready to answer _that_ question yet. "I'm Ana Steele… I'm new, but you already knew that. Um, English lit?"

"Aha… Ty's replacement. So how's it going? This room is... all right," she says, eyeing the bare bulletin boards, evidence of the previous occupant apparent from bits of tape and staples.

"Um... I'm just trying to make a list of what I'll need. So... I'm teaching _literature_ and there aren't any books in here. Do you know if they are in storage somewhere?"

She purses her lips as if she doesn't know how much to tell me. "So Ty was a little... _different_ in how he taught literature. He mostly taught from the textbook? I think _that's_ in storage. I can show you."

"The textbook?" And I can imagine what it's like, with its sample excerpts and canned opinions. "Why not teach from the actual... books?"

"I think you can make the class as you like it... as long as you follow the basic rubric of requirements."

I had looked over the rubric and it was very loosely defined... 'Expose students to elements of English literature...' and so on. There weren't even any suggestions of what should be read, as long as it allowed for a 'broad scope of the subject matter.'

"Hmmm. Yes, I definitely have some ideas, but... the question is how to get the books. I mean even six books times twenty-four students..."

"You have a budget for supplies... but yeah, I'm pretty sure the collection of books is supposed to build on itself year to year."

"Well I'll just have to get creative... starting with these bulletin boards... within two weeks," I laugh, leaning against my desk. _And plan a surprise wedding... Oh boy. What was I thinking?_

 **=/=/=/=**

"So if the students already have iPads assigned to them..." I say as I pace back and forth across our small living area. "A lot of the classics are available in an electronic format for free... so that will take care of a chunk of what we need."

 _Pace... pace..._ Christian is sitting on the couch, calmly watching me and nursing a beer while I rant.

"But I want them to be able to get their hands on at least a few real books. SO. I have $250 plus I can throw in some of the money I got from Wanda... she was a fan of classic literature. And I have my employee discount. So I'll see what I can find by scouring the used bookstores here on the east side… and go from there. And get all the stuff for the wedding... and the barbecue. It'll be fine!" I say, as if saying it out loud will make it true. Now that I have a solution, no matter how far-fetched, I finally stop pacing.

"So. You have a plan... used bookstores, huh?" Christian asks, then pats his lap, signaling me to come sit down already.

"Yeah, you wanna come?"

"Mmmm..." is all he says as I grind against him, feeling him harden beneath me.

 _Oh I think we're both gonna come._

 **=/=/=/=**

"This is the one, Kate," I say, and I can feel my eyes misting up. "This is my dress."

 _This is it._ It's a short-sleeved, ivory lace dress that hugs what curves I have and falls just above the knee. The lace is stretchy, a floral pattern over an solid base layer in the same ivory color.

I've been searching stores in downtown Seattle... without knowing exactly what I was looking for. I wanted something that says 'bride' when it needs to and 'barbecue' when it doesn't.

Kate has been a champ all day, going with me to store after store. She stopped asking 'what are you looking for?' after about the fifth time I answered, 'I'll know it when I see it.'

We've been talking and laughing non-stop, and we may have even gotten tipsy over a few Cosmos last night. I stayed with her in her hip, downtown condo and it was just like old times - glossy magazines, pedicures, and all.

 **=/=/=/=**

I scrutinize myself in the mirror one last time, smiling at my navy and gold _Bellevue Wolverines_ staff shirt. It looks like team jersey with my last name - _Steele_ \- across the back. It seems like a bit of a waste, but I can't exactly show up to the staff meeting with one saying Grey, can I?

Christian comes in, dressed in a navy polo emblazoned with the school crest and khaki pants. He looks me up and down, then comes over and stands behind me, placing his hands on my hips.

"Should I take off my ring for today?" I ask, reaching to twist it from my finger. "I mean, are we telling people about us?"

"No. Don't take it off." He covers my left hand with his, and pushes away my other hand. "I'll handle it. I want everyone to know you're _mine_."

"I'm yours. And you're mine."

"Good girl." He traces the letters of my name on my shirt and says in a husky voice, "And don't take this off when we get home."

"Why is that, Mr. Grey?" I ask.

"Because I'm gonna fuck you in this staff shirt," he says.

And then, without warning, he releases me and is gone as quickly as he arrived. "You want a coffee to go?" He calls over his shoulder.

"Um, sure?" I call after him, still breathless from his attentions. _Man, he can change gears quickly!_

Christian drives us to the school and parks in his designated space, which is just around the corner from the front doors. He needs to arrive earlier than I do, so he gives me a quick kiss before getting out and heading inside.

With about twenty minutes to kill, I pull my dog-eared copy of "To Kill a Mockingbird" out of my shoulder bag. I'm considering it as the first book for the fall semester in my American Literature class.

Finally, at five minutes to eight, it's time to head inside. I get out and lock the doors to Christian's car, fling my bag over one shoulder, and walk toward the entrance. Out of the corner of my eye, I see two female staff members coming from the opposite direction, and it's obvious that our paths are going to intersect.

I give them a little smile as we head toward the doors together.

"Hello there, are you new?" One of them asks me. She is about blonde and probably mid-fifties, with an athletic build and a friendly smile. The other woman looks a little younger, with dark hair and eyes.

I nod. "Um, yes… Ana Steele? English lit... and I'll also be coaching girls' cross-country and track?"

"Ah, the track star," she says as we walk down the hallway toward the library. "We've been hearing some impressive things about you. I'm Kathy Taylor, chemistry. And this is Laura Sanders, math.

The second woman gives me a nod, "So nice time to meet you," and then opens the door to the library, holding it open for Kathy and me to enter.

Several other teachers and staff have already arrived, and are standing in small groups or finding places to sit. There are several round tables in the room, with one longer one at the front. Christian is standing behind the front table, conversing with two other men. I recognize one of them as Cal Hobbes, the principal.

Cal introduces the new staff members, saving me for last. There's a nervous-looking band director who looks like he's about seventeen, and a new library aide who could be his grandmother.

"And taking over English Literature, we have Anastasia Steele. Ana, please stand." I do and he continues. "She will also be our girls' cross-country and track coach. She has an impressive record in the sport and I hope you all will make her feel at home. And also, I believe that Coach would like to say a few words."

I smirk at his use of the familiar title. He's never going to outgrow it, _no matter how important he gets._

Christian stands and clears his throat. He's wringing his hands together… he looks nervous! "On a more personal note, Ms Ana Steele and I are engaged."

A collection of gasps and whispered exchanges fills the room, and I can't help but notice a few who can't hide their disappointment. I can only imagine that Coach Grey - no doubt the Adonis of Bellevue High - has been a hot item of affection.

He calmly waits for the room to settle before continuing. "Anyway… we plan to be married in the near future. Also, many of you know that I broke ground on what is now - _our_ \- new house over the summer. The frame is up, and Cal has graciously allowed us to host this year's kick-off barbecue. It will be - as usual - this Saturday evening at six o'clock. I hope to see you all there."

He gives a little nod and sits, and I sink gratefully into my chair. _Whew!_ The meeting moves on to safer topics… the calendar, the remodeled restrooms, changes in arrivals and dismissals for the new school year. I can feel more than one set of eyes on me - checking out the ring on my finger - as I make little notes on my printed copy, letting my heart rate slowly return to normal. _Sorry ladies… he's taken! And he's all mine._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

 **CPOV**

After the staff meeting, Ana and I worked in her classroom for a while - bringing in a few boxes of her personal supplies, setting up a reading corner with a Poang chair from IKEA - she finally managed to get me in that store and… it wasn't horrible. I might have to go back at least for some more of those Swedish meatballs.

We just got home, and I'm heading over to the worksite to see if they've finished pouring the concrete walkways while Ana goes in to start dinner. They look great, and I take a minute to admire them and talk with the workmen.

"D'ya think the missus will approve?" asks Derek, the foreman, with a twinkle in his eye. He and his men have had fun teasing me about my new status. I started this project as a single guy, and it was all about what I wanted for _myself._ That quickly changed into what _she_ would like, and what would be best for _us_.

I leave them to finish up for the day, turning to take in the view and to give myself just a minute before I head in to see _my girl._ I couldn't help but notice that Laura was shooting daggers at Ana, and I know Ana felt it too. She didn't say anything while we were at the school, but she was a little quieter than normal. I have a feeling that she's inside brewing over it right now, ready for me when I go in.

Laura pursued me pretty persistently last year, eventually ending up in my office late one afternoon. I'm not perfect and let's face it - I'd had a pretty long dry spell. We kissed, and there was some pretty heavy petting… until my face was in her very full, very firm breasts. And my only thought was 'Are these real? They can't be real, can they?' And I pulled back, realizing that it wasn't just her breasts that were the problem. Everything about her was fake… from her colored and carefully coiffed hair, to her heavy makeup, to her pointy stilettos. She was perched on my desk by this point, and over her shoulder, I caught sight of my favorite photo of my girl. Messy ponytail, no make-up… all natural and drop-dead gorgeous.

So I pulled away, made some excuse about being inappropriate in the workplace, and ushered her out of my office.

Sighing, I turn and head for the shed… hoping that she's not too mad and that she left that staff shirt on like I asked. I can hear cabinet doors being slammed, pots being banged as soon as I slide back the door. _Here we go._

As I make my way over to our living quarters, I can see that she is still wearing the jersey shirt and that her legs are bare below it. She's sending off mixed messages, but my pants tighten at exactly what I could do with a naked and pissed-off Ana in my kitchen.

I'm just a few feet from her when she whips around to face me, her hair wild and her cheeks flushed. She's a green - er, _blue_ \- eyed goddess, and I involuntarily reach for her. She jumps back as if I'm about to scald her, effectively pinning herself between me and the counter.

"Whatcha makin'" I ask, peering around her at what she's been preparing.

"Pasta with bolognese sauce. Did you sleep with her?"

"Who?" _As if I didn't already know._

"Laura what's-her-name. The slut puppy who couldn't keep her eyes off you."

I feel the corners of my mouth twitch. _Slut puppy? Really? Oh, my girl is jealous._

"Don't you dare laugh. This isn't funny. Tell me. Do you still have feelings for her?"

"Ana, NO. I told you before… I haven't slept with anyone. Not since Natalie. It's the truth." I decide that I better just tell her everything. It's not like I did anything wrong. _Except that I could have told her - warned her - before today._ "We kissed… once. She was a warm and _very willing_ body. But before it went any further, I realized that was just all artificial and wrong for me. Fake personality… fake hair…"

"Fake tits," she says, crossing her arms under her very real ones.

"Yes. And then I spotted the photo of you on my wall… and all desire for her just - _poof._ " I throw my hands in the air for emphasis.

"Poof?"

"Yes. Okay?"

"Mmm… okay." She puckers her lips and I lean in, plant one on her.

"Now… you are looking mighty inviting for someone who's mad at me."

"Maybe I just wanted you to see what you'd be missing… you know. If you didn't want to be truthful… or you decided…" She shrugs and looks down at her feet.

"No. Not gonna happen. Look at me." I put one finger under her chin, pull up so her eyes are forced to meet mine. Her eyes are uncertain and shiny with unshed tears. She's so smart-mouthed and seemingly confident most of the time, that I forget the hurt - the _damage_ \- that _he_ caused, that's still lurking inside her. "You are _everything_ I want."

"So now what?"

"Now I _want_ everything," I say, reaching behind her and clearing a space on the counter with one sweep of my hand.

She squeals as I lift her onto the counter, but allows me access as I part her legs and step between them. I look her over from the top of her head to her painted toenails, trying to decide where to start, and then plunge my face between her very real tits. I suck on one and then the other, leaving two wet spots with her nipples straining against the fabric. "Such a good girl," I whisper, kissing my way down her midline, "to leave this on for me. But what… do we have under here?" I ask, as I lift the hem of her jersey. I'm pleased to find that she's wearing a tiny, navy thong. _Oh yes._ I lean down and kiss her stomach right above the lacy swatch of fabric. I hear her breathe in sharply, feel her body twitch and arch backwards.

"Christian, please…" she gasps. I'm finding that she's a little self-conscious when it comes to me just appreciating her body. She's a _spank-and-slam_ kind of girl. But not tonight… Tonight I'm going to take my time. No toys, no kink, no pain… _just us._

"Did you just put these on?" I ask, sliding one finger under the elastic of her thong. "Or have you been wearing these all day under your _work clothes_? Were you thinking of me while you were squirming in your seat?"

"Yes. All day… now _please_ ," she reaches for my belt, intent on freeing me, but I take half a step back, shaking my head. _No._

She growls in frustration and tries to snap her thighs shut… it's _truly_ adorable, but she's not getting her way. I grip her knees, spreading them even wider, and I can see the moisture coating her inner thighs. She might be pissed, but she's also aroused as fuck. The sight makes me painfully hard, and I almost wish that I'd let her open my pants. But then this would be over _much_ too quickly.

I reach forward and slide one finger inside the soaked fabric, and this time she jolts forward and her mouth is at my neck. I can hear her breathing, fast and shallow, in my ear. "You're making a mess on this countertop," I scold. "I'd better clean you up."

I slide her thong down her legs, letting it drop to the floor, then dive between her legs. By the time I'm finished, she's come - _twice_ \- and it's even messier than when I started. She's starting to slide around in the wetness, and the counter's a bit high for what I want to do next, so I take her into my arms and carry her bridal-style over to the little kitchen table. Her eyes closed and body limp, she doesn't protest - maybe doesn't even realize where she is. I peel off her shirt before laying her down, her knees at the edge, and her lower legs dangling. _Perfect._

I pull off my own staff shirt and _finally_ open my pants and free my dick, which is throbbing now and leaking cum from the tip. Her glistening center is lined up perfectly with the edge of the table, and I waste no time in thrusting into her. _Fucking finally._

She's warm and so wet, and I can hear slurping sounds as I pound into her. I could almost believe that she's passed out completely, but then I feel her walls begin to tighten around me. I look up, and her blue eyes are cracked open and there's a little smile on her face.

"Come on baby. I need you to come. One more time…" Now it's me that's begging, because I'm about to blow. "Right… NOW."

On command she closes her eyes and throws her head back, moaning as she milks me, as I feel myself tip over the edge and spurt inside her over and over and… _oh fuck me…_ I collapse on top of her.

I'm sweating and breathing hard, and I feel my damp skin slide against hers, our hearts pounding against one another. She lies still for a minute… two, before she starts to squirm. "So sweaty… too _heavy_ ," she manages to gasp, which is impressive considering I'm smashing her lungs.

I chuckle and push myself up and into a standing position, then reach down and pick her up again, this time carrying her to our bed. "Now do you believe me?" I ask. "You're _everything._ "

"Mmmm…" And she rolls into me, tucking herself in along my body. _Where she belongs_ … _fucking finally_ is the last thought through my head before we both pass out.

 **=/=/=/=**

I'm awakened by the sound of an unhappy stomach rumbling, and then I hear a soft giggle. "Was that your stomach or mine?" She asks. "You didn't let me finish making dinner."

Showing no sign that she was passed out spread-eagled on our table an hour ago, she pops up and dresses in one of my tee-shirts and a pair of my boxer briefs. _So sexy._ She turns on some girly pop music and dances around the kitchen, wiggling her hips to the beat. I feel completely spent - satisfied, but spent. And then I remember that she's only twenty-three, young and resilient. I get that guilty feeling in my gut, the one that reminds me that I'm robbing the cradle, but I push it down. Nothing to be done about it, because I am one-hundred percent in love with her.

I'd rather just lie here and enjoy the show, but finally manage to pry myself out of bed, my bad knee complaining just a bit, and go to help her in the kitchen. The table's going to need a good cleaning before we can eat. I take time to get dressed myself, because God knows I won't survive another round before dinner.

 **=/=/=/=**

"So. Where are we on RSVPs for the wedding - er, wedding-slash-barbecue?" She asks, wiping her mouth on her napkin and getting up from the table.

Ohh… she's gone from pissed-off to sex goddess to dancing chef… straight into _wedding planning mode._ We're all set for next Saturday at six o'clock… ten days from now. And counting.

All of the major players are on board, except that I haven't officially introduced Ana to Matt and Olive yet. We've FaceTimed with my family in Colorado a couple of times, and they're all coming to the ceremony. When it comes to my family, they're happy if they can see that I'm happy.

And we've been up to Montesano to spend a weekend with Ray. He took me fishing, and over an hour of staring at our bobbers, I was able to convince him of two things: First, that we didn't cross the line while she was in high school. _Well, there was that tiny little… but he doesn't need to know about that._ Second, I assured him that my intentions with his daughter were nothing but noble. In his quiet way, he reminded me that he was trained as a sharp-shooter in the military. And then we went back to fishing. We stayed overnight and behaved ourselves in her childhood bedroom… _mostly._

As for Ana's mother, she's been tight-lipped, only saying that they're not in contact anymore. I know it's something to do with what went on in Texas, and that she'll tell me when she's ready. She's not the only one with mommy issues, with a mother that didn't put her first. She assumes that my scars are from chicken pox, _and I just haven't corrected her. Someday._

Ana returns to the table with her planner, opening it and removing a sheaf of papers. So much for round two… _or would it be three?_

"... replied to your email, right?"

"What's that?" I snap myself out of my fantasy that had my… _never mind._

"Matt and Olive replied to your email, right? I know he's agreed to stand up with you, but did they say if they're coming for the whole weekend? Are they bringing the boys?"

"Oh right… yes, they are. They're bringing the boys - the barbecue has always been a family event. And I think they're staying with her parents… on Mercer Island."

I see her freeze for just a second before making some notes on her paper. Yes, Olive's parents are also _her_ parents. _Will she be there that weekend?_ I don't know. _Do we actually need to have a real conversation with them, tell them the 'Ana' I've been dating all summer - that I'm about to marry - is a former student? Natalie's protege and mine?_ Yes. _Before the wedding?_ Yes.

"Ana, we need to talk to them. They're nice… they'll understand. We've put it off way too long as it is… we can't stay our bubble forever. And it'll be better coming from _us_."

She bites down on that lower lip of hers, and I can tell that she doesn't believe me, but finally she nods. "Okay."

"Let's FaceTime them tonight… around 9:00? The boys should be in bed by then, and we can talk."

 **=/=/=/=**

 **APOV**

Christian's iPad lets off that shrill, distinctive FaceTime ringtone and my heartrate kicks up a notch. Here goes nothing. _Maybe they're not there… maybe they went to bed already_.

But no luck… the call connects and the screen goes black for just a moment before Natalie's face fills the screen.

 _Fuck! He called the wrong number!_ I start to panic, glad that I'm standing off to Christian's left, just out of range.

"Hey Olive, long time no see," says Christian, his voice warm and relaxed.

Olive… not Natalie. I knew they were identical twins. Right. Get a grip, Steele!

"Well speak of the Devil… you're alive! And you look _good._ "She laughs and it's familiar, but different too. She has the same dark blonde hair as Natalie, but it's short and stylish, cut just below her ears. And she's wearing glasses with dark plastic frames. "Matt! It's Christian… doesn't he look good?" Matt's face - olive skinned with short dark hair and a goatee - appears over her shoulder.

"He looks like shit. He always looks like shit," Matt jokes.

"You're just jealous," Olive says playfully, and swats at him.

I like them immediately, they're fun, and I can understand why Christian's kept up his friendship with them.

"You're sure you want one of these again?" Matt asks.

Christian laughs. "Yes, I'm sure. And I'm glad you're all coming for the big day."

"Is she there? We want to meet this mystery girl that you've been hiding up there on your property," says Olive, straining her neck as if it will expand her view.

I'm holding my breath, waiting for him to make some sort of speech… an explanation, when he reaches out and pulls me onto his lap. I appear in the little screen in the corner, visible from my knees up at this angle. _Thank goodness I put on some jeans over Christian's underwear._

Olive and Matt are motionless for several moments, and I begin to wonder if the connection has frozen, but then I feel Christian shift beneath me and see us both move on the screen. Olive recovers first, shutting her mouth that had dropped open and squinting a little, as if trying to make sure she's seeing me clearly.

"She's _the_ Ana?" She asks, turning her attention back to Christian. "As in the one who's had you under her spell for the past EIGHT years?"

 _Oh holy fuck. Mother of all shitstorms…_ It seems that my reputation precedes me. And it's not good.

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! This is my first all-new (to me) chapter since breaking my finger. Felt good to me, and I hope you enjoyed it too! I've finally time-hopped these two to where I want them and it was time to stop for a little fun.**

 **Shout out to CTHEWOODS for giving me the term 'slut puppy' in her review. I hope I used it well :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

I am up and out of Christian's lap before he can react and urge me to stay, slamming the bathroom door shut behind me. I need to be alone, and the bathroom is the only room in this - _shed_ \- with a door. I pace around the small room, wringing my hands, and I can hear Christian's raised voice as he talks to them. At least he is talking back… defending himself. Defending _us_.

He's talked to me about how he felt he had cheated on Natalie - if not physically, then _emotionally_. But the question is, how much did I play a part in it? Would they have stayed together and found their way if I hadn't been around? If he wasn't having wet dreams about us while lying next to her? Or was I just one more factor in a long line of unfortunate circumstances?

I consider going back out to support him, but - in the end - he's the one who was the adult and _married_ , and these are his friends, and this talk with them is _way_ overdue. Plus, I can hear Olive's tinny - but clearly agitated - voice coming through the iPad. _And, let's face it, she scares me a little bit._

In the end, I turn on the taps to the bathtub and let it fill, relieved when the sound of the running water drowns out their voices. I add some lavender oil, strip down, and sink gratefully into the steaming bath.

By the time Christian comes to find me, the water is tepid and my fingers and toes are all pruny. After I turned off the water, I could hear their voices again, but they sounded much calmer - like they were finally _talking._

He sits on the edge of the bathtub, his back to me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. I just lie quietly and wait for him, knowing that he'll talk when he's ready.

"Well, that was unpleasant… I had no idea that -" He lets out a dry little chuckle, still clearly processing what just happened.

"That Natalie knew all along? That she confided in her twin sister about her fears? And how seeing me here with you confirmed… _everything?_ "

"Yes. I told them all of it… the truth. I guess they'll have to decide if they're going to accept what I've told them - or not."

"Christian, Natalie has moved on. She's found someone else… she's happy. And in the end, she left _you_. She gave up, she didn't fight for her marriage. And that really says it all."

"I didn't fight for us either," he sighs. _And there you have it._

"Do you think they'll still come to the wedding?" I ask quietly. I know that if they don't, if he's hurt their friendship beyond repair, it'll crush him.

"I hope so? But in the end, our marriage is about _us_ , Anastasia. And speaking of us -" He swivels around to look at me. "I'd join you in that bath, but I can tell by the way your nipples have gone all hard that it's frigid in there." He extends a hand and grasps mine, giving it a squeeze. "Come to bed."

 **=/=/=/=**

"Steele, stop squirming or I swear to God… I am going to stick this eyeliner pencil in your eye."

It's my wedding day - _my wedding day_ \- and Kate is in her element, playing Barbie dress-up wedding with a real-live Ana. I try to relax, keeping my chin up as demanded, hoping that I'll still look like _me_ when she's finished. I've reminded her over and over that I need to look like I'm ready to host a barbecue… but this is _Kate._

 _Oh well, people will find out soon enough._

This past week has been crazy, with trying to get ready for the school year _and_ today. Thankfully, Cal has stepped up and taken over most of the preparations for the barbecue. He has a mobile smoker that he pulled in here on a flatbed trailer early this morning. This guy is _serious_ about his barbecue, and my mouth has been watering all day from the delicious smell of roasting meat that's are filling our property.

Christian's family arrived on Wednesday, and although I was nervous about meeting them - _a mere three days before the wedding!_ \- they have been fantastic. Grace, Carrick, Elliot, Mia, and Christian's grandmother, Adele, all came from Colorado. I know that the loss of Grandpa Theo has left a hole that can't be filled, but they have all be kind and so helpful.

As Christian said they would, they didn't complain about having to stay at a hotel, and dove straight into getting the place ready for the wedding/ barbeque/ reception/ party… _whatever it is_. They hung lights, set out tables, and have been dealing with the florist and caterers as they have arrived today, hauling in flowers and table settings and side dishes, setting up a bar… my head hurts just thinking about it. But, thankfully - deep breath - I am not in charge today. Today, I get to be _the_ _bride_.

"Ow, Kate… take it easy!" Speaking of my head hurting, it seems that she's finished with my face and has moved on to my hair. I'm not allowed to look at myself until she's done, but I can feel her twisting my hair and jabbing me with countless bobby pins. _Ugh._

Kate and I have been sequestered to the shed for the past few hours. I refused to sleep apart from Christian last night, but agreed to a little separation and pampering - er, _torture_ \- this afternoon. I am not allowed to make an appearance until just before six o'clock this evening.

The men are not allowed in here, but Grace and Mia have been popping in and out with updates. The place settings are _fabulous_ … The lighting will be _perfect_ … The flowers are _to die for…_ I'm glad to know that it's going well, but honestly I just want to be married to _my man_ and move forward with our lives.

"Just about done… and with an hour to spare," says Kate. "Just have to get you dressed, and we'll be all set."

"Go peek," I plead. "Tell me what's happening."

Kate gives me _the look_ , knowing what I'm really asking. I want to know if Matt and Olive have arrived yet. Christian got an email from Matt on Tuesday, confirming that he would stand up with him. But the email was short and to the point, and they haven't really communicated since _that night_.

Kate rolls her eyes, but goes over to the door and slides it back a few inches, sticking her head out. "I see… Grace, Mia, and Adele supervising the places settings… _ooh they really are nice…"_

"Kate…" I growl.

"Okay, okay… I see the men gathered around the fire circle, drinking bottles of beer… Ooh, your dad's with them, looks like he's fitting in fine. Hey, by the way, is Elliot single?"

"KATE!"

"Ohh… yep, they're here."

Unable to resist, I scramble over to her and try to peek around her shoulder. "How do you know what he looks like?"

"I know because _she_ looks like _her_."

 _Oh, right. Duh._ And then I see her, standing just off to Matt's side, holding a glass of white wine. She's watching what must be their two little boys as they run in circles on the scrubby patch of grass. Butterflies bloom in my belly at the sight of her, looking so much like Natalie, but I feel relief too. It might not be perfect, it might be still a little bit awkward, but they came. _And that's a start._

 **=/=/=/=**

"Ana, are you sure this is the size you tried on? I don't remember it being this tight… maybe we should have gotten the six," Kate says as she struggles to zip me up. "There. I got it."

I let out the breath I'd sucked in, and feel the slightly stretchy material pull and expand around me. She's right… it _does_ feel tighter. I'm already wearing Kate's wedding present to me - a pair of pearly, ivory Louis Vuitton strappy heels. I'm still getting used to them, and I totter over to - _finally_ \- look in the full-length mirror that she brought in and set up.

"Ohh… Kate! Thank you!" I squeal as I see my reflection. As she promised me over and over - as she was thinning my eyebrows and pulling my hair - I look like me, but _better_. My makeup is subtle, highlighting my eyes and lips, and adding definition to my cheeks. And my hair is, as Mia would say - _to die for_ \- in a gorgeous, intricate, low bun with just a few tendrils curling around my neckline. My nails and toenails are manicured to perfection - pink and whites - as demanded my Kate and Mia. All of us ladies had a spa day yesterday morning, so I also have a fresh haircut and all of my parts are thoroughly _de-forested._

I hear Kate sniffing behind me, and look up to see her wiping away a tear. "Ana, you look amazing… you look so happy and just _healthy_. I mean, you actually have _boobs_ now."

I return my eyes to my reflection and she's right… I _have_ gained some weight this summer. When I came back from Panama, I was seriously underweight and had perpetual dark circles under my eyes. Now, my skin is glowing and my body's actually has some soft curves and - _cleavage_. _Yes!_

"It's all that good lovin' and good food… Christian's been grilling out almost every night - _steaks and potatoes, pork chops and corn on the cob, cheeseburgers_ \- I can't get enough of it." I catch another whiff of Cal's barbecue and my stomach growls, sending us both into fits of giggles.

 **=/=/=/=**

Three sharp raps on the shed door pull us out of our teary-eyed hysterics, and I hear Ray's deep voice, "Is it safe to come in?"

"Daddy! Come in!" I call, wiping my face carefully as Kate fusses over my makeup one last time.

Ray pulls back the door and strides over to us, looking all cleaned up in a light button-down shirt and dark pants. "Everyone's here, kiddo… it's showtime," he says, as he pulls me in for a hug. I can tell he's still cautious about my touch issues, so I wrap my arms around him and squeeze tight, letting him know that I'm okay. _That I'm back._

"My little spider monkey," I hear him whisper, and I grin at the childhood endearment.

My dad takes my arm and leads me outside, and past the various clusters of people on the lawn. I smile and nod, seeing faces that I vaguely recognize from the school. Most of my coworkers are still strangers to me, but they're important to Christian and I'll get to know them soon enough. If anyone wonders why I'm being led around by my dad - or why I'm wearing these crazy-expensive heels in the dirt, to a barbecue - they'll have their answers soon enough.

I can see Christian, Elliot, Matt, and Cal through the still-open walls of the house, gathered in front of the stone fireplace. There's a microphone set up and they all appear to be fiddling with the sound system. But I know that - really - they're waiting for us. Christian is waiting for _me_.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

" _If any of you has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."_

 _What? Oh shit… that part was supposed to be left out of the ceremony! What is this, a Hallmark movie? I peel my eyes away from Christian's and look out over the crowd that's gathered around us. I see Olive and Laura, that slut puppy, standing side-by-side. Slowly, identical evil grins steal across their faces and Laura nudges Olive as if to say, "You do it."_

 _Olive's throaty voice calls out, and heads turn as one to look at her. "I have something to say about Anastasia. About how she put a spell on Christian, how she drew his attention away from my sister -_ his wife _\- and made him focus on_ her _. She's a liar and a whore. And Christian? He used to whack off in his_ marital bed _fantasizing about Anastasia. She was a minor -_ his student _\- and he_ fondled _her, brushing his fingers across her -"_

"Anastasia… Anastasia?" Christian's voice breaks through my nightmare of a daydream.

 _Hmm? Ohh, shit. I'm getting married here, and I should pay attention!_ It's just that Cal was going on and on… The man is very long-winded.

"Anastasia, I vow to love you faithfully, forsaking all others. I promise to love, to trust, and to respect you. To comfort you in times of need, and keep you safe. All that I have is now yours. I give you my hand and my heart for as long as we both shall live."

"Christian, I vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health. I promise to love you unconditionally, to honor and respect you, and to bring you solace in times of need. I promise to cherish you as long as we both shall live."

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," says Cal proudly.

Christian leans in and gives me a lingering kiss, one that's just long enough to give the doubters a good show, and it's done. _We are married._

 **=/=/=/=**

"Is everyone gone?" I groan as I sink gratefully into one of the chairs by the fire, slipping off these wretched heels. For four hours, I danced and smiled and ate and smiled some more, making conversation and accepting congratulations from a never-ending procession of people. I didn't know most their names, so it was _a smile and a nod and a thank you so much_ to most of them.

But now, at just past 10:00, the music has stopped, the guests have left, and the caterers have packed up and left as quickly as they came. It's just the core group of us circled around the dying fire - me and Christian - who's come to perch on the arm of my chair - Christian's family, Ray, and Kate. Matt and Olive left about an half an hour ago, two sleeping boys draped over their shoulders.

It wasn't as awkward having her here as I thought, the hectic and busy atmosphere being a huge buffer. She even gave me a little smile as they offered their congratulations, seemingly resigned to the fact that I was now _the new Mrs. Grey._ I did notice her shoot a knowing look to Christian, as if they shared a secret, and I'll have to ask Christian about it. But not today.

For now, I am going to enjoy what's left of my wedding day… _and my wedding night._ And the next two days that make up our short honeymoon, which we'll spend together at home - no doubt only surfacing for food and _maybe_ a little sunlight.

"So who was the one with _the face?_ " asks Kate. "She was giving you the stink eye all night."

I laugh. I had been watching the crowd for their reactions when they realized this was a wedding, not just a barbeque. Most looked surprised, and then pleased about getting to witness the unexpected event. But my favorite was Laura who just stood there, opening and closing her mouth over and over, like a fish. "Oh that was Laura, one of the other teachers. She has a thing for Christian… and I can't say I blame her. I mean, look at him!"

"We can't all be as ugly as you, bro," Elliot scoffs, and I notice that he's taken the chair right next to Kate's, and that he's managed to scoot it so close that their arms are touching. Kate looks pleased at the situation, and I can see color rising in her cheeks… and it's not just the wine. Oh she wants him, and I think their attention is off the wedding and on to the _after-party_. They're totally going to do it on _my_ wedding night.

We all visit until the fire is just a pile of glowing coals, and then Carrick clears his throat, announcing, "Well, we'd better get on… let these two get some rest."

"Rest? Yeah, right." Elliot smirks.

"Elliot," Christian warns.

"I'm sorry we couldn't invite all of you to stay with us, but this is not the year for that," I say apologetically, gesturing toward our unfinished home. "Next time for sure."

"No worries… we'll go and you two can make as much noise as you -" Mia says, then clams up after a warning glare from Grace. She shakes her head at her children's crudeness, then comes over to hug us both good-bye.

My dad and Kate follow shortly after, Kate and Elliot exchanging not-so-subtle glances as they all walk toward their cars. _Seriously?_

And then it's just the two of us… _finally!_ Christian pulls me in, pressing me flush against him, running his hands down my back before resting them on my hips. "You look very beautiful, Mrs. Grey. But tell me… You had something old -"

"My ring," I say, twirling it on my finger, feeling the added width and weight from the wedding band. The ring, as I had learned, had been his great-grandmother Trevelyan's wedding set. He'd been promised the ring as a young man, for his future bride, but he had never given it to Natalie. She'd chosen a modern, platinum set from a jewelry store at the mall. But the vintage style, set in warm, white gold with tiny diamonds sparkling around a central sapphire, was _perfect_ for me.

"Something new -"

"My dress and shoes."

"Something borrowed -"

"Your mother's diamond earrings that she wore on her wedding day."

"And something blue. Wait, is your ring the old _and_ the blue?"

"No." I say softly, pulling him even more tightly to me, sliding my hands around to grip his delectable ass. "You have to come find it for yourself." I say, feeling the lacy 'something blue' getting damp between my legs.

Something between a growl and a moan escaped from him as he scooped me up, carrying me bridal style toward the shed - and our bed. "You've gained weight, Mrs. Grey," he murmurs against my ear.

"Hey! Are you calling me fat?"

"Oh it looks good on you, baby. You're all mine, and it lets me know you're happy… fat and happy," he smirks.

 _What? Oh, he is going to get it. I'll smother him in his sleep with my new cleavage._

 **=/=/=/=**

"Ana… _Ana_." Someone is shaking me awake, their hand on my shoulder. _Go away!_ I can feel a puddle of drool by my mouth, and my pillow is… really hard. I open my eyes and raise my head slowly and I'm not in bed. I'm sitting at my desk in my classroom, and there a distinct wet spot in the middle of my teacher's edition of 'Of Mice and Men.' _Ohh no._

Christian's grinning down at me, looking disgustingly fresh and handsome for… I squint my eyes at the clock - four-thirty on a Friday afternoon.

"Is it over?" I croak. This first week of teaching has been amazing… _and utterly brutal._ My advanced literature course, which is the last period of the day, has been especially hard. The students are bright and willing, but Ty hadn't given them a good foundation in their introductory course. I can't hardly wait until next week, when cross-country practices start after school, and my days are even longer.

"You made it. You survived your first week, Mrs. Grey. And I think we should celebrate. What would you like for dinner?"

"Fogo de Chão Brazilian Steakhouse," I say firmly. I've been dragging him there at least once a week, craving their Churrasco Meat Board, which is overflowing with chicken legs, pork ribs, a beef rib, and lamb chops.

He opens his mouth to protest, but promptly shuts it when I give him Grace's signature look - chin up, eyes narrowed - that says _don't even try it, Christian._ Spending several days with my mother-in-law, watching her interact with her grown children, has turned out to be quite useful. He sighs and waits while I gather my bag, then takes my hand and leads me out the door. It's not that he doesn't like the steakhouse, but once a week is maybe a _little_ much for him.

 **=/=/=/=**

 _ **Saturday morning, two weeks later…**_

 _Christian is licking my neck, short flicks of his tongue working their way up to my cheek, and then my eye. He's licking my eye, tentatively at first and then more and more aggressively over my eyelid and brow._

"Ack, Christian! What are you doing?" I complain, reaching out from under the covers to push him away. But instead of a hard body, my hand meets… soft fluff. _Fur. Oh God, a wild animal has gotten in here and…_ I open my eyes in terror and... it's a _puppy!_ A beautiful, golden ball of wiggling fuzz with a wet, pink tongue.

Fully awake now, I sit up and see that Christian's standing beside the bed, looking very proud of himself. "Happy birthday, Mrs. Grey."

"You got me a PUPPY?!" I squeal like a little girl, scooping the puppy up and into my arms. One thing I have missed about living with Ray is having Charlie for company. "What in the… Where did you… How did you…"

"It's a boy, a golden retriever mix, and I got him from another athletic director down in Rainier Beach. Their female - um - got loose and…"

I grin. "And came across a man of questionable background?"

"Yes. So he was giving them away, and he just brought him up here for us this morning. So, birthday girl, what are you going to call him?"

"Hmm… he looks wise, and he's been on a journey to us… I always thought Gulliver was a cute name. From 'Gulliver's Travels'? Gully for short."

"Whatever you want Ana," he says, leaning down and patting Gulliver and giving me a kiss on the nose. "Besides it'll keep you from giving that name to our son one day."

He turns and starts to walk away, and I grab a pillow and pelt him with it. "Hey!" I call, laughing, "Gulliver is a great name!" But then something in my gut flips and turns over as his words echo through my head. _Our son._

 **=/=/=/=**

 **CPOV**

"Looks like Ray sent you a birthday package," I say, tossing a thick manilla envelope on the bed. My birthday girl and Gulliver have been lounging in bed since after lunch. She's reading while rubbing the sleeping puppy's round, pink belly. _Hmm… he's a lucky little guy. She should be rubbing_ my _belly, or better yet my -_

Ana opens the package and pulls out a stack of envelopes, maybe a dozen in all. "Oh, it's just my mail. I haven't updated my address on everything yet. He meant to bring it to the wedding, but he forgot. Aww… and he put in a birthday card!"

I decide to ignore my - literally - rising desire from imagining what she could massage for me and leave her to it. "Want a drink? Lemonade?"

"Yes please," she answers as I head to the kitchen.

I pour her a lemonade and grab myself a beer, taking a minute to check my phone for messages. When I return to the bed with the drinks, I'm surprised to see that Ana's frozen, clutching a single piece of paper in her hand. She has a pale complexion, but usually her cheeks are rosy. But now her face is white, completely devoid of color.

"Ana," I say, hearing the sharpness in my voice, the worry. "What is it?"

"I - I thought it was just an appointment reminder… I'm supposed to go in for my shot next week… and I forgot that I haven't given them my new number… been trying to reach me…" She's rambling, her voice shaking and getting softer with each word.

"Ana, please. You're not making any sense. Tell me what's wrong."

She just shakes her head, unable to say any more, and hands me the letter. I quickly scan the letter, noting the purple University of Washington Clinics letterhead. It's dated July 5th, nearly six weeks ago.

 _Dear Ms. Anastasia Steele… unable to reach you by phone… letter to inform you… your Depo Provera shot given… may have been ineffective… switched with a batch of placebos… we are a research facility…_

Holy FUCK.

… _urge you to take a home pregnancy test or come in to one of our clinic to rule out… we apologize for any inconvenience…_

Inconvenience?! _Pregnant. She could be…_ A warm feeling of joy and excitement radiates through my body and I look over at Ana. She's still frozen, watching me with glassy eyes, the puppy still at her side but forgotten.

But then I remember, and the feeling of joy drops like lead into my belly. No, it's impossible. She can't be.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and reach out to grasp her hand, feeling her ice-cold fingers as they wrap around mine. I rub her hand for a few moments, trying to warm it back up before I begin.

"Ana, I haven't been completely honest with you."

 **=/=/=/=**

 **A/N: I know… I know… it's another cliffy. You might love me, you might hate me, but I bet you'll keep coming back for MORE!**

 **((Credit for the vows -** _ **Fifty Shades Freed**_ **movie.))**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

 **A/N: By popular demand, an early update. Yep, you love me now...**

 **(Credit for the term "magic sploodge" goes to my friend and fellow writer, T Traveller, who used this magical term in her review of Ch. 23!)**

" _Ana, I haven't been completely honest with you."_

"Christian, I'm not ready to be a mother. It's too soon." she says at the exact same time. "I mean, we've been married for like _five minutes_. And I'm just now getting settled in at work… we don't even have a _house_ … and then there's all the diapers and vomit and _shit._ "

And then she stops, and I can see her processing what I said. "I'm sorry… what?"

With my free hand, I rake my fingers through my hair, thinking back to those few minutes before the wedding ceremony, when we were waiting for everyone to arrive.

 **=/=/=/=**

 _Olive's standing a little off to the side, watching Sam and Will as they play. They each have a couple of small cars, and they're racing them over a patch of dirt._

 _I take the opportunity to walk up beside her, and I just stand there for a moment, letting her take the lead. They did come today, but I know it was not without reservations. Right or wrong, she still holds a candle for her sister._

" _Christian, I know that it's over between you and Natalie, and that it has been for a long time. I want you to be happy… I was_ thrilled _that you'd found someone, that you'd moved on with your life. But then when I saw_ her _-" she stops and shakes her head._

" _Ollie, I need to know what she told you. Because nothing went on between me and Ana until well after our marriage was over."_

" _She… she started talking about this talented young athlete that you were both coaching. And shortly after that, she said she felt like you were… disconnected. That you weren't IN the marriage anymore."_

 _Yeah that was about the time that I started dreaming about Ana, began acting on my fantasies in private, started stealing glances at her whenever I could._

" _She never came out and said it was Ana, but when I saw her on FaceTime…"_

" _You connected the dots."_

" _Yes."_

" _Ollie, I_ know _that I cheated emotionally on Natalie. I will feel guilty about that for the rest of my life, but today's my wedding day, and I'm not going to -"_

" _Yeah, I know… and I agree. This is not the time to be dredging all of this up. But there's something that you need to know. That you should share with your_ new wife _."_

" _Okay…" I say. Her voice is serious, and a feeling of unease drops into my gut._

" _Natalie called me last week. She's so excited… she's pregnant. She and Jake - her new husband - are going to have a baby."_

 **=/=/=/=**

Ana listens as I recall what Olive said to me that day, her blue eyes never leaving mine. Finally, she sighs and her body relaxes a little. She remembers the puppy at her side and releases my hand, begins to stroke his soft fur again.

"So you think that _you're_ the reason that she couldn't get pregnant? I thought it was undiagnosed."

"It was, but Ana - if she's pregnant, then doesn't it seem obvious? I mean, she and this _Jake_ have only been married for a few months. We tried for _years_."

She nods. "But I'm tired all the time, and I have these crazy cravings for _meat_ , and I'm… _expanding_." She gestures down her body to her curves that have seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Half of my new work clothes that I bought with Kate don't fit me anymore. I mean, _look at me_."

"I am," I growl, and lean forward kissing her cleavage, running my hands down her sides until they're resting on her hips. "You look and feel healthy and… perfect." Now if I can just get this little fuzzball out from between us, flip her onto her back, and -

"I think we should do a test… just to rule it out," she says, and I can see her anxiety begin to ramp up again, and notice that her hands are shaking as she strokes the puppy.

She's right. I sigh and pull back, willing my chubby to deflate. I adjust myself - again - and go to grab my wallet and keys. "You want to come?"

I shakes her head and gestures to the sleeping puppy. _Right. I had plans to take her shopping today, to get him a crate and other things he needs. To let her pick out a leash and collar for him, but that'll have to wait._

I dash to the Walgreens near the interstate and go straight back to the pharmacy section. Analgesics, sinus relief... _family planning._ And there they are, lined up next to the condoms. Boxes and boxes of them, containing what will be the results of people's hopes and dreams... _and fears_. I must have bought a hundred of them for Natalie.

I grab four - two different brands - and hustle back up to the register. I ignore the smirk from the cashier as he takes in my rumpled appearance. _Just ring them up and mind your own fucking business, asshole._ I swipe my credit card, not bothering to wait for the receipt - as if there was any chance that I was going to return them - and hightail it out of there.

When I get home, Ana's still in bed, wrapped around Gulliver. I hear soft snores, and wonder if she's fallen asleep, but then realize they're coming from the puppy.

"Baby..." I say softly, "Baby, I'm back. Do you want to get up and take a test?"

She doesn't move at first, but then I see her nod and roll slowly over to face me. Her face is flushed, but she seems calmer than before.

"Good. Up you come. I think we'll both feel better once we - um - _rule it out_. And you can take another in the morning, just to be sure." I grab her hand and pull her up, give her one of the boxes. "Do you need any help?" I'm not really sure how I can help her pee on the stick, but if she wants me to stand there while she -

She takes the box and turns it over in her hands. "I've never actually taken one of these before," she sighs, "but I'm pretty sure I can figure it out." She walks over to the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

Not knowing what else to do, I walk over and put one palm and then my forehead on the closed door. "Let me know if you need me to set a timer," I say.

She doesn't answer, but I hear her rustling around and then a minute later the toilet flushes. "It says wait three minutes," she says, and I can hear the sink running as she washes her hands.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and set the timer, and then wait, unable to keep myself from flashing back to the many, many times that I did this with Natalie... especially in the beginning, when we were young and in love... _naive and invincible._ It was just the two of us against the world, not yet knowing that the world was against _us._

The door opens a few moments later, surprising me, and I jump back. Ana's standing there with an odd expression on her face, that adorable 'vee' between her brows. "I think it's done already," she says softly, holding up the little white stick.

"Well let's just give it the full three minutes, okay? And we can do another in the morning," I say, leaning into kiss that soft spot between her brows.

"No, I mean, I don't think we need to wait… it's positive."

 _Positive… positive._ The word is bouncing around in my head, and I can't seem to grasp ahold of it. Instead it settles in my ears, creating a feeling of pressure and an odd ringing. "What?"

"It's positive, Christian. I'm pregnant," she says, holding up the stick so I can see for myself. There are two dark pink lines, leaving no doubt about the results. "Are you okay?"

"I just... I mean... I thought..." Words are not my friends right now and I can feel my legs getting wobbly, so I pull her over to the bed and onto my lap.

"Aren't you happy?" She asks, her breath tickling in my ear.

 _Positive. Happy? Yes, I'm happy…_ "Yes… shocked, but _happy_. I thought… I mean after she told me about Natalie I thought I was -"

"Infertile? I think it was more like _incompatible_ ," she says, completing my broken thoughts.

And then I remember what she said earlier, about how she didn't feel ready to be a mother.

"Are _you_ happy?" I ask. "You said that you weren't ready. That it was too soon."

"Mmm… I know. It's just that everything's happened so quickly." A little smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "And you know everyone's going to think that we _had_ to get married. But while you were gone to get the test... I realized that I was going to be _disappointed_ if it was negative. And _that_ surprised me almost as much as the actual result."

"We'll figure it out... the diapers and vomit and shit," I say, and then I lean in and kiss her on the lips, gently at first, and then more insistently. The shock is starting to wear off, and I'm feeling _elated_ and so fucking turned on, and ready to pour all of these feelings into her. She giggles when she feels me growing beneath her. This time, I'm not going to stop. I need to be inside her… _inside my pregnant wife_. I lift her shirt and rub my hand along her belly, caressing it, before continuing down, slipping a finger into the wet heat between her legs. She's wearing leggings and - I'm pleased to discover - _no panties._

She moans and then grinds herself on my finger, moving her hips in search of friction, and peeling my shirt off at the same time. "Christian, _now_."

I pull her t-shirt off and flip her onto the bed, quickly disposing of her leggings and my sweats and boxer briefs, and then bury myself inside her. _Fucking finally._ I don't think my dick was going to handle another disappointment today.

I pump in and out of her, speeding up the pace, and I feel the bed shifting beneath us and hear the headboard thunking against the wall. She closes her eyes and I can feel her start to tighten around me, and I know she's close… _thank fuck, because I'm not going to last._

And then I feel something warm and wet, something warm and wet that doesn't belong to my wife. I look back and _Gulliver is licking my ass._ And then he crouches down, tail wagging, watching our bodies move as if this is some sort of game. _And I think he wants to play._

I turn back and bury my face in Ana's neck, stroke deep and long into her, knowing that she won't be able to hold back. "Come for me, Ana… and _hurry._ "

 **APOV**

"Christian, you've gotta calm down," I say, as I shift on the paper-covered exam table, feeling the opening in this wretched gown shift and expose my butt. He's been pacing for the entire ten minutes that we've been in this exam room. He's dismantled and rebuilt the anatomical models of the female reproductive system - both the non-pregnant version and the pregnant version with the removable fetus - at least twice. I hear a clatter and see a white plastic ovary shooting across the floor.

" _Shit!"_ He says under his breath as he goes to retrieve it. _At least he didn't drop the baby._

The door opens and a woman with dark hair and a white lab coat enters. "Hello, I'm Doctor Greene," she says, reaching out to shake both of our hands. I suppress a giggle as Christian quickly switches the ovary into his left hand, concealing it behind his back.

She opens my chart, and I can see the moment when she realizes that we're here because of _that_ \- the mix-up with the placebo shots. When I called to tell them that I had received their letter, and that I had had a positive home pregnancy test, I was _immediately_ connected to their legal department. A few apologetic conversations, in which we were promised to have _all expenses covered,_ and a blood test later, here we are.

"We did try to contact you a number of times, Miss Steele…" she murmurs as she continues to read my chart. "And we sent a letter as a last resort over two months ago -"

"I know," I say, "I've just been so busy and I changed my phone number… and I moved. And it's _Mrs. Grey_ , now… And my dad forgot to bring my mail to the wedding..." I realize that I'm rambling and finally stop myself.

"Well, you're here now, it's just that the others -" and she stops herself abruptly.

 _The others?_ Oh shit, I didn't even think about that. How many others? And they must have been made aware much earlier… early enough to - _Don't think about it!_

She can see where my thoughts are going, and she shakes her head and directs me to lie back on the table. She's not allowed to talk about it. _Of course she isn't._

Christian, after returning the ovary to its rightful spot, no doubt, appears at my shoulder. "Shh… Ana, don't think about anything else. This is about _us_ , okay? Nothing else matters right now."

I nod, silently thanking him for re-centering me, bringing me back to us and _our baby._

Doctor Greene begins to push and prod on my belly. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it's not very comfortable either. "So you were given the placebo shot on June 16th… and your previous shot likely ran out about a week after that… and you would have ovulated two weeks later. Did you have a period at all?"

"No," I answer. I hadn't had any bleeding at all since being on the shot.

"So you could have conceived during your first cycle… in early July? Or it could have been the next cycle, in early August. Based on what I'm feeling, it was the earlier date… making you twelve or… maybe even thirteen weeks along."

 _What?_ I practically shoot into an upright position, propping myself up on my elbows. How could I be that far along without knowing? Because I was busy, happily in love, and apparently _in complete and total denial._

Thirty minutes later, we are walking out of there, clutching photos of our baby - who was already completely and perfectly formed - ten fingers and ten toes, swallowing and _sucking its thumb_. We also had a packet of papers, a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and a due date of April 6th. _Which is right smack in the middle of track season. Oh well, just like the many, many other things that go along with this, we'll figure it out._

My mind is whirling with dates and numbers when Christian tugs on my hand, pulling me to a stop in the main lobby of the medical center. "Stop. Over. Thinking," he says. And his face breaks out into a shit-eating grin as he picks me up and twirls me around.

I squeal as the room spins around us, a little breathless as he sets me back on my feet. "Twelve weeks," I say, " which means that your guys marched in as soon as they saw their chance. I think you have magic sploodge, Mr. Grey."

 **=/=/=/=**

It's Saturday morning, only a few days after our visit to Doctor Greene, but I'm ready to go see my dad. Out of everyone, he's the one that I want to tell first… _who deserves to know first._ Christian's driving, it's a rare sunny, late-September day, and I'm content to watch the scenery as we pass Olympia and begin the drive up the peninsula. Gully's in my lap, stretched out along the length of my thighs. He's taken his new family in stride, putting up with our ranting and our craziness, as long as he gets his meals and good, long sniffs around the property as he does his business. I never expected to get a puppy _and_ a baby for my birthday!

After letting Charlie and Gully do the obligatory butt-sniff in the driveway, we all go in the house, letting the now over-excited pair into the back yard to play. With the distraction of the dogs gone, I feel suddenly nervous to tell Ray my news. What will he think? I know he'll be surprised, but then will he feel excited or will he disapprove? Either way, he won't be able to hide his feelings. _I know him too well._

But then I realize that he _looks_ as nervous as I feel. _What's going on here?_

"I'm glad you kids came over," he says, clearing his throat and gesturing us toward the living room. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it, Daddy?" I ask warily, refusing to take a single step until I know what's going on. "We came because we needed to talk to _you_."

He sighs and looks me up and down, knowing that we share the same stubborn streak. "You first."

"No, _you_ ," I say. "Tell me."

And in unspoken, mutual agreement, we speak at the same time.

"Daddy, I'm pregnant."

"Annie, José's back."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

" _Daddy, I'm pregnant."_

" _Annie, José's back."_

 _What?_ I whip around and peer into the living room, as if I'm expecting to see José sitting on our plaid couch. He isn't anywhere to be seen, of course, so I turn my attention back to Ray. He's standing there looking as shell-shocked as I feel. I'm not sure which one of is more surprised at this moment.

My eyes flick over to Christian, who's still standing just inside the door, the bag of food we brought for Ray at his feet. I see his hands curl into fists, as if ready to pummel José if given the chance. And then the oddest thing happens to the entryway. The walls start to close in, shimmering with black flecks, the air is thick and hard to breathe, and then the whole room gets dark and starts to rotate slowly around me.

The last thought that goes through my head is how funny I must look, standing there confused about what's happening to the room. And the last thing I feel is a pair of strong hands grabbing me before everything goes black.

 **=/=/=/=**

" _... think we should call an ambulance."_

" _... give her a minute, son…"_

" _She's been through so much… couldn't take…"_

" _... going to be a father? Not sure I agree with your timing… you love her… and I know she loves you."_

The words are swirling around in my head, getting louder as I near the surface, until I break free and feel my eyes flutter open. The first thing I see is the little brown water stain in the ceiling. I had a pool party for my Barbies in the sink when I was seven, ended up flooding the bathroom. I smile at the memory and then turn my head to see my husband's beautiful profile and his head of copper curls. He's kneeling on the floor, holding my hand, but he's looking down and he doesn't look happy… not like the Christian who hasn't been able to wipe the grin off his face all week. He looks _worried_.

I reach up and run the fingers of my free hand through his curls, and his head immediately raises, gray eyes searching my face. "Anastasia… thank God," he breathes.

I pull myself into a sitting position on the couch, tucking my legs under me, getting my bearings. "I fainted? I've never fainted before. How long was I out?"

"Just a few minutes. How do you feel?"

"My head is pounding and I don't know… shaky?"

Christian turns to my dad, who I now see is perched at the edge of his recliner, also looking worried, and asks him for some juice and Tylenol.

No one speaks again until I've taken the pills and drained the glass of orange juice. Finally, I break the silence, willing myself not to panic again. It's not like José is _here_ -here, my dad would never allow that to happen. "What's going on Daddy? What did you mean when you said that José is back? I thought he was in prison."

"I'm sorry, Annie… he _is_ in prison. I probably should have led with that," he says, giving a nervous laugh. "He's in a federal prison in Lompoc, California. He's awaiting a trial date on the charges of fraud, of falsifying documents. Apparently, he had a nice little set-up down there… putting his _photography_ to use, helping others with their papers as well."

 _Oh._

"Annie, you didn't know anything about it, did you?"

"No… no I didn't. I hardly ever left the apartment," I say. "I didn't know."

"Good," he says, sounding satisfied at my answer. "Because you're going to have to testify, probably in court in Santa Barbara. They're going to serve you with papers, Annie. I'm almost sure of it."

I take a deep breath in and let it out. I suppose that, deep down, I knew that my connections - my _marriage_ \- to José wouldn't be severed so easily. "Well, if it helps to keep him where he belongs, then that's what I have to do."

Christian's shaking his head. "Surely they can just take a statement from her. She didn't have anything to do with it. To make her go all the way down there and face him -"

"I know, son, but I don't think it's going to be that easy. We're just going to have to ride it out, see what happens."

"When? When do you think it will happen? I'd rather get it over with before -" I start to gesture to my middle, but then stop when I realize that we haven't really gotten to talk to Ray about the pregnancy yet. But maybe he and Christian were talking about it? I'm not sure. _Before what? Before I start really showing. Before I have to waddle into a courtroom, with dozens of pairs of eyes scrutinizing me, to face him._

Ray shakes his head. "I doubt it will be until after the first of the year. It's likely to get dragged out over months, and the courts are backlogged… But tell me, sweetheart, when can I expect my grandchild to arrive?" Now he's smiling, leaning forward in expectation instead of anxiety.

"Around the beginning of April," I say. "I know it's really soon, Daddy… but we didn't plan -" I stop, not really wanting to go into detail about our failed birth control and my husband's unexpected virility. That skirts too close to the line of actually discussing S-E-X with my dad, and that's a _hard limit_ for me.

"Both of you listen to me. I know that I tend to be a man of few words, but I will tell you this. I may not completely understand _what_ you two have… _when_ it started, _how_ you've settled in together so easily. But I do know this. You are healthy and happy, and _whole_ in a way that I wasn't sure I would see again. And for that I will always be thankful. It's all any parent can ever ask. The rest of it's just… details. Now. Did you bring one of your lasagnas or what?"

 **=/=/=/=**

"Hey, let's stop and surprise Kate on the way home," I say as we pass the signs for Sea-Tac, nearing the 405 interchange that will take us east to Bellevue. "We can introduce her to Gulliver."

"You're sure you want to face the Kate Kavanagh inquisition after all that with your dad?" He asks.

I laugh at his accurate description of Kate's direct way of getting answers from people, particularly _me_. I'm pretty sure she had her suspicions before, but she held back because it was my wedding day and because she was distracted by Elliot. Unlike my dad - who definitely does _not_ want details - she'll want to know exactly how, when, where, and _in what position_ this happened.

That's something that I'd like to know for myself, but - let's face it - we had _a lot_ of sex over the summer, like two people who have waited a long time and who have complete faith in their birth control. I've pretty much decided that it was the night of the meteor shower, when we sat out in the Adirondack chairs on the patio after dinner, watching the shooting stars. Eventually, I got cold and ended up on his lap, which led to pants coming off, me straddling him and… I squirm in my seat just thinking about it. It just seems so magical and fitting - conceiving our baby under the stars. Christian's convinced that it was one of our quickies in the shower. _I guess we'll never know._

My own life has been such a whirlwind these past few weeks, and I haven't given much thought to if s _omething happened_ after she and Elliot left that night. In fact, I never even mentioned my suspicions to Christian. The Greys all left to go back to Colorado the next day, so it's not it was anything more than a one-night fling.

We reach Kate's building, and Christian enters the code to the indoor parking garage. I have the code memorized, and I still have my key from the time I spent here last month. I direct Christian to Kate's second parking spot, and he pulls in next to her little black Mercedes CLK.

I'm practically dancing in the elevator as I hold a still-sleepy Gulliver to my chest - partly out of excitement, and partly because I _really_ have to pee.

Christian's just standing there, smirking as he watches the show. "Are you all right?" He finally asks.

"I gotta pee really bad," I say. "So I'm gonna unlock the door and let Gully go sniff out Kate and surprise her. And, meanwhile, I'll sneak down the hall to the bathroom."

He rolls his eyes, but agrees to go along with my plan, even if it _is_ technically an invasion of Kate's privacy.

I quietly unlock the door to Kate's loft apartment and set Gulliver down on the floor. "Go find Kate!" I whisper to him, giving him an encouraging little push. Gully hasn't met Kate before, but he's a sucker for new people, confident in his ability to bring them swooning to their knees to give him pats and belly rubs.

Christian and I tiptoe behind him as he trots down the little entry hallway into the main living area. I'm about to skirt off to the right, toward the bathroom, when I spot movement - _very distinct movement -_ from the couch. Someone's bare back and ass are visible as they bob up down and - _oh God. Kate has a guy in here and they're… oh God._

Christian stops abruptly beside me, and I can practically hear him cursing my plan in his head. _Whoops! Okay… okay… so we'll just grab Gulliver, tiptoe back out of here, and -_

An ear-splitting, female shriek of surprise fills the air, and I know that Gully's pink tongue has found its target. _Too late._ The are several moments of scuffling and a "What the _fuck_?" before _Elliot_ pops up, pulling a pair of jeans on as he stands. It only takes him a split second to recover from seeing Christian and me standing there, frozen and slack-jawed, before he grins and says, "Hey."

"Hey Elliot," I giggle, the shock wearing off and the absurdity of the situation setting in.

"Elliot, what the fuck are you doing here?" Christian growls. "I thought you went back to Colorado with the rest of the family."

"I did, but I came back... on _business_. I've been looking to expand _Grey Construction_ into a new region. Seattle's a good fit with a lot of… benefits."

At this, his latest _benefit_ appears beside him, with Gully in her arms, having managed to find and secure a satin robe around herself. But, in typical Kate fashion, she's not embarrassed by the situation or deterred by the two Grey brothers having a stare-down. Her eyes immediately zero in on my middle and I look down at myself. My gut, no doubt helped by three servings of lasagna and a full bladder, is definitely protruding, pushing tight against my jeans and t-shirt.

"Whoa, Steele," she says.

"Um, I need to pee," I say quickly, dashing off down the hall. Maybe if I take long enough, the Kate Kavanagh inquisition will be re-directed at Christian, and over by the time I get back.

 **=/=/=/=**

By the time we're headed home, across the I-90 bridge over the dark waters of Lake Washington, Christian is relaxed - full of Pagliacci's pizza and a couple of beers - and able to see the humor in the situation. He and his brother reached an agreement over their second beers. Elliot will keep quiet about the baby until we've had a chance to tell the rest of his family. And Christian will keep quiet about us catching him making the beast with two backs with Kate on his "business trip."

Kate, of course, is thrilled about the idea of becoming an auntie. She says she has the best end of the deal - she gets to shop for baby clothes without actually _having_ a baby or losing any sleep. And she kept going on about something called a _gender reveal party_ , which involves either colored frosting or balloons full of glitter.

My head starts to droop as I'm trying to figure out how they get the glitter _in_ the balloons, thinking that it's just all been _too much._ My dad, the news about José, the fainting, Kate and Elliot - _which was entirely my fault_ \- and now glitter-filled balloons. _I can't…_

"Next weekend's that trail run at Lake Padden, you know," Christian says as he turns up the Lake Hills Connector toward home.

"Mmm," I answer, willing myself to stay awake. The Lake Padden trail run is up near Bellingham, where Olive and Matt live. We talked about going up there for it, but that was earlier this summer. Back when we assumed that the four of us would be _friends_. And before the two of us became the _three_ of us.

"You wouldn't have to run the race," he continues. "It's only a 5K and you could walk it, jog some if you want."

"Mmm," I say again, and I know that he knows that my lack of enthusiasm is not because of the race.

"Ana, you know that we need to try talking to them again, to make them see how _good_ we are together. And we need to do it soon," he pauses and reaches over to squeeze my knee.

"I know… before I turn into a whale," I sigh. "Fine, we can go up there. But _you_ do the talking. Deal?"

"Like I did with Kate and Elliot? Like I didn't know you were hiding in the bathroom?"

I just shrug. _No comment._ He knows I have the upper hand here.

"Fine. Deal."

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Happy Valentines Day, everyone! As always, thank you for reading and reviewing! ((Smooches!)) xoxo**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

It's after dark on Friday evening by the time we reach Matt and Olive's house in Bellingham. A light mist is falling as we wind around the narrow streets in their historic Fairhaven neighborhood. Christian parks in front of a low bungalow, its lights glowing warmly through the mist as if to welcome us. It doesn't do much to ease the knot in my stomach, though. I don't realize that I've been wringing my hands together until Christian reaches over and places one hand on mine, and I force myself to stop.

"Ana, relax. Just breathe. Are you feeling alright?"

"Mmm… yeah, better. I think it's just nerves at his point." I'd made him stop at the Marysville exit so I could grab some beef jerky and a chocolate milk. _Okay, and some Combos - the pretzel ones with the cheddar cheese? Yum._ An empty stomach is _not_ a happy stomach.

"None of this is directed at _you_. It's on _me_ and I'll deal with her," he says.

I manage a nervous laugh. "Christian, it's not your fault either. Regardless of what's happened in the past, Natalie's moved on." I reach up and run my fingers through his already-tousled hair. "And you can - _you should_ \- too. I just - it's just that I'm _ten years younger_ than all of you, and I was your _student_ , and I know that's how they look at me."

Christian cuts the engine, and turns in his seat to face me. "You're not my student now… Believe me, I don't think of you that way anymore. You're twenty-four and you're a smart and independent young woman. And if they like it or not, we're a package deal. They'll have to take us or leave us." He leans in and kisses me softly. I'm tense at first, but then relax into him, opening my lips to let him in. He releases me and says softly, "Just you and me."

"And baby makes three," I whisper back.

He leans in for another kiss when we're interrupted by a voice calling. "Are you two coming in or what?"

Christian gives a little exasperated laugh then sits up and opens his door, calling out. "Keep your pants on, Olive… we're coming!"

I get out on my side go to join Christian at the back of the SUV, but I'm ambushed by a large, panting, wiggling, furry blur. "Oh!" I cry out in surprise, as the blur collides with my shins. I crouch down to greet the visitor, and it's a gorgeous golden retriever with a very wet tongue. "Hello there," I greet the dog, rubbing my hands down its glossy sides.

"Scout!" I hear Olive call. "Sorry! He got past me… he loves people!"

Grateful that the dog has broken the ice, I call back "He's fine… he's beautiful!" I stand up and Scout circles me twice and then goes to greet Christian. I can hear Gulliver start to whine from inside his travel kennel. He's gotten a little big and rambunctious for riding in my lap, especially if I don't want to share my beef jerky. It's a few minutes before we make it to the front door, with Scout 'helping' Christian with the bags and Gully's kennel. It's raining in earnest now and we're both laughing, the dogs are barking, and we're soaked.

"Scout!" Matt has appeared in the entryway, with a towel in his hands. "Come!"

With Scout being held down at towel dried, Olive and I are finally face-to-face. Her eyes seem to look right through me for a moment, as if sizing me up, before she gives me a wide smile. "Ana, it's so nice to see you again," she says, and pulls me into a hug. "Let's get you out of these wet things -" and without missing a beat, she moves on to Christian, giving him a big hug too. "And we can all go in and sit by the fire."

Within a few minutes, we are shed of our raincoats and shoes and being led into the living area. It's large with a high ceiling and a painted brick fireplace. There's a fire crackling away in the open grate.

Olive takes our drink orders - herbal tea for me and beers for Christian and Matt - before disappearing around the corner to what I assume is the kitchen. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and hear Matt chuckle and say softly, "She's been a bundle of nerves all day."

I laugh, "Really? _She's_ been nervous? It's nice to see you again too, Matt," I say and extend my hand. "The wedding was such a blur, that I didn't get to properly talk to anyone." _Thank goodness._

He smiles and his dark eyes are warm. He's quiet and I can tell he's an observer, a perfect counterbalance to the whirlwind that is Olive.

We settle in on the large L-shaped couch, which is all buttery tan leather with bright pillows and throw blankets. Christian sits at one corner, and I sit next to him. Scout, having finished sniffing Gully, jumps up beside me, rolling onto his back so I can rub his belly. I oblige and he lets out a little moan of contentment. "He's great… how old is he?" I ask.

"He's two. So he's still a bit of a puppy," Matt says, laughing as Christian scoops up Gully with one hand, saving their home from certain puppy destruction.

Olive comes back in with the drinks, including a teapot of hot water and a selection of tea bags. I choose chamomile, as it's getting late, and mix it with a little bit of honey.

Conversation between the three of them flows more easily than I expected, and I just sit back and listen. _I wonder how often they see Natalie and her new husband? I wonder what they think of him?_

"... and how are you liking it at Bellevue, Ana?" Olive asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I tell her about the classes that I'm teaching and about coaching cross-country. _I don't tell her that I worry about how I'm going to keep up as the weeks pass. That I'm still trying to think of how to tell my athletes - impressionable young teenage girls - about my pregnancy._

I sip my tea and listen as the conversation moves from topic to topic - Matt's job, how big their kids are getting, a new deck that they're putting on, Christian's new house… I can feel my eyelids getting heavy as I finish my tea and set my empty cup down. I snuggle into Christian's side, half listening… _and I'm out._

I vaguely register the sensation of being lifted and carried, the feeling of a soft bed underneath me… _Shit._ My eyes open and Christian is hovering over me, looking amused as he peels off his shirt.

I sit up halfway, still feeling dazed and sleepy. "I fell asleep… didn't say goodnight to - and what about -"

Christian continues to get undressed. "Don't worry about it. It's late and they're letting both dogs out before they head to bed themselves. They're putting Gulliver in the mudroom with Scout for the night."

"Well, we'll have to recompense them in the morning," I sigh, getting up to unpack my sleepwear and toiletries.

"Recompense?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Pay then back. You knew I was a grammar nerd when you married me, right?" I tease.

The bedroom is cozy, with a queen-sized bed and a little sitting area, but it doesn't have an en-suite bathroom. Thankfully, I thought to bring a light robe, and I put it on over my camisole and sleep shorts before going to take my turn in the hallway bathroom.

I snuggle into the bed, which I think must have a down mattress cover and comforter… and it's _heaven_. I feel Christian slip in behind me, and he moves in close before sliding one hand up along my thigh to my hip. "You had your second encounter with the famous Olive… and you survived," he jokes.

I snort, thinking that I wish I hadn't fallen asleep in the middle of our conversation with them, but then I am distracted by Christian, as he starts to rub himself along my backside. And I can feel him growing and hardening, the sounds of his breathing getting heavier with each thrust. "The boys are sound asleep. A _their_ room is all the way at the other end of the hall," he says, and I know he's reading my mind.

"Mmm…" is all I can manage, before rolling over to meet him.

 **=/=/=/=**

I'm warm, and sticky, and naked from the waist down. And I really need to pee. The down bedding that seemed so welcoming last night, combined with Christian's body heat, is now smothering. I open my eyes and there's light peeking in between the curtains, but it's muted and I think it's still early. I untangle myself from the comforter and Christian's arm, which are both draped across my back, and stand. Finding my sleep shorts and panties on the floor, I slip them on and go to find my robe, which I draped over the chair in the sitting area.

I'm just tying my robe shut when a wave of nausea hits with no warning. _Shit._ I went to bed on an empty stomach… and where are my peanut butter crackers? I know they're somewhere in my shoulder bag, but it's too late. I clap one hand over my mouth and make a run for the bathroom, leaving our bedroom door open in my haste.

I manage to shut the bathroom door behind me, but then barely make it over to the toilet before hurling up what little is in my stomach. And, after that, dry heaves wrack my body as I retch over and over again. I can hear the sound echoing in the bathroom, but unfortunately my stomach is in control here.

Finally, the heaving subsides and I clutch my stomach, willing my muscles to relax. My other hand is still clutching the toilet seat, my knuckles white. I let go and each up to flush the toilet, then sink back onto the little rug. I'm sweating and shaking, and I just sit for a minute to make sure it's over. After a couple of minutes, I stand and go over to the sink, rinse my mouth out and brush my teeth. _Yuck. I hate to throw up._

I examine myself in the mirror and my eyes look huge in my face and my cheeks are flushed. My hair is wild and I need a hair tie… and some juice. And maybe some bacon. With peanut butter. I rummage around in my toiletry bag and find the first item on my list, securing my hair up into a messy bun. It feels so good to have it up, to feel cool air on my neck.

I open the bathroom door, half expecting to see Christian or - worse - Olive outside the door, but the hallway is still quiet and dark. All of the doors, except the one to our bedroom, are closed. I quickly pad back to our doorway, peeking in to see Christian still asleep - all long limbs and beautiful… _NO._ My stomach is starting to grumble now, and it wouldn't be happy if I crawled into bed with him for a little… _NO._

I shut the door quietly and go in search of the kitchen. I know it's past the living area, down a short hallway that skirts a formal dining area. I feel like I'm sneaking around, even though I know no one will care if I raid the refrigerator for some orange juice. _And maybe a little snack._

I can see that there are lights on in the kitchen and I can hear someone moving around. _Crap, crap, crap…_ I freeze in the doorway and peer around the corner. Olive is at the sink, and I can see her reflection in the dark window as she works. She's wearing a fleece robe and she's peeling something… a potato?

I watch her for several moments, thinking that she looks like a real grown-up, not like me who's pretending half the time. I'm not a bad cook, but sometimes it feels like I'm just playing house with Christian. Another grumble in my belly is followed by a tinge of nausea, but I think I'll be a coward… go look again for my crackers.

"Good morning… you can come in. You don't have to hover in the doorway," I hear Olive say.

I look up and meet her eyes in the window. _Double crap._ I wasn't considering that she would be able to see me as clearly as I could see her. Taking a deep breath, I step forward… no retreating now. "Good morning… I don't want to interrupt. I just woke up and wanted a little juice," I say lamely as I walk toward the refrigerator.

"There's OJ made in the pitcher… on the top shelf," she says, "and you're not interrupting. I was just going to make a hash brown casserole and pop it in the oven before going to take a shower. We'll have a kitchen full of hungry men - big and little - before too long."

I smile and think of our two men, and her two boys, who must all still be sleeping. I take out the clear pitcher of orange juice while Olive reaches up to a cabinet next to the sink and takes down a glass for me.

"Thank you," I murmur, pouring it and then taking a long drink. It tastes wonderful - just the right combination of sweet and sour - as it slides down my throat and erases the nausea that was starting to edge its way in.

"I've got coffee on if you'd like to sit and have a cup?" She offers, gesturing to the coffee maker in the corner. I can hear it puffing and steaming as it finishes.

I shake my head. _No, no coffee._ "Juice is good for now. Can I help you with the casserole?"

She considers me for a moment, as if wondering if I can be trusted in the kitchen, but then nods. "There are some mushrooms and bell peppers over there. They're already washed," she gestures, pointing with the potato peeler. "And knives and cutting boards in the drawer below, if you want to chop them?"

I nod, grateful for something to do with my hands, and go to set up my little work area. I select a medium-sized cutting board and knife and get to work, halving and de-seeding the peppers. It's domestic and cozy, knowing that we're the only ones awake and working in the bright kitchen while the rest of the house slumbers.

Olive hums a little as she works, and I can see her out of the corner of my eye as she finishes peeling the potatoes and lines them up on the counter next to the sink. She gets down a mug and pours herself a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter to take a little break as she sips it.

"I heard you in the bathroom," she says out of the blue, catching me off-guard. "Something not agreeing with your stomach?"

 _Yes, as a matter of fact there is. And it's your best friend's thirteen-week-old fetus._

I can feel myself blushing, but I'm not going to tell her the truth. Not now while she's staring me down, and not without Christian for back-up. I shake my head. "Just left over from travelling, I guess." _Really? Lame excuse, Ana._

"I was sick all the time with Will. I'd be out of bed and running for the bathroom first thing."

That's it. I set down the last pepper and turn to face her. Her jaw is set now, and her green eyes are on fire. _Oh here we go. She wants to do this now? Bring it on._ I cross my arms and meet her gaze, challenging her to continue.

"Do you know how many talks I had - with both of them - in this very kitchen? I watched Christian and my _twin sister_ struggle with the heartache of wanting a baby for _years_. She sat right here at this counter and cried her eyes out… I don't know how many times. And here I was, having my own babies, feeling guilty… and sad for them."

I don't know what to say. She has this whole life, this past, with them and unlike what Christian said in the car - it will never be just him and me. Time might knock off the corners, make us able to coexist, but the past will keep rearing its head. They've been friends for half their lives. I was still a child when they were going to college, and getting married, and trying to start their families and raise their children together.

"When Christian told me about you, I had just learned about Natalie's pregnancy. And my first thought was, 'How does she feel about his past. She's so young, and what if she wants to have children someday? Does she know what she's getting into?' I was worried about _you_ … and then finding out who you really were, having it confirm what I had always suspected?" She shakes her head.

"Nothing. Happened. Back. Then. It was just… mutual respect, I guess you could say. And when we met again, it's like a _spark_ that ignited. And the flame - our connection - is stronger than reason… and it's stronger than anything or _anyone_ that tries to pull us apart."

"I meant to tell you - to warn you - before the wedding. Just in case you wanted to make a different decision. But then the shock of seeing you on that screen -"

 _A different decision? What is she -_ "You thought I might not want to marry him because of it?" I ask, my voice an octave higher. "Well obviously you don't know me - know _us_ \- very well at all."

"But then I realized, well _of course_ she wants to marry him. You are, aren't you." And it's not a question. She knows.

I tighten my arms around my middle and decide just to say it. "Yeah… I am… I mean, _we_ are. About thirteen weeks."

"And whose is it?"

What the fuck is she getting at here? I hear myself gasp in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"Christian told me about your past _relationship_ troubles. And I'm sure you were relieved to jump out of his bed and into Christian's."

I'm going to slap her. I've never hit anyone in my life, but it's going to happen. I feel my body start to lunge forward, but before I can take a step, there's a hand on my shoulder. _Christian._

 _Thank God. How much did he hear?_

I feel his fingers tighten and he pulls me back against him, snug against his solid body. It would be incredibly calming if I couldn't feel the tension - the _anger_ \- radiating from him. Oh, he heard enough.

"You're way out of line, Olive," he says softly, the tone of his voice _way_ more frightening than a yell. "Ana left her ex-husband, in January. Does she look _eight months_ _pregnant_ to you?"

Olive narrows her eyes, but she's starting to look a little uncertain. "But… what if it wasn't really over between them? I mean I'm not saying she was cheating on you, but right before -"

I look up at Christian and he cocks his head, almost as if he's a predator sensing his prey. This time, his voice comes through his teeth as a growl. "He's been in prison in Panama - and now in California - since _January_. For beating the shit out of her. Does that answer your question?"

 _And for falsifying papers. Mostly for falsifying papers, but we'll go with it._

Olive's hands fly up to her mouth and she shakes her head slowly. "I didn't know -" she whispers.

"Because you didn't want to listen, Olive. You didn't want to get to know her." He lets out a breath, and I can tell that he's trying to calm himself. "I'm going to take a shower. You have one last chance to talk to my wife. And to apologize. Otherwise, Ana and I are out of here."

 _Oh yes, please. Let's just go now!_ But of course I don't say that. Instead, I turn back to chopping the veggies, wait for her to make the first move.

I've chopped up one pepper and am starting on the second when she comes up beside me. "I'm sorry, Ana. I didn't mean…" She shakes her head. _Didn't mean to say that I caught Christian in some sort spell as a teenager? That I was sleeping around? That I tricked Christian into marrying me? All of the above?_

She takes a safer path, leaving the unspoken… unspoken. "So Christian's finally going to be a dad? Oh, he must be thrilled."

I nod, still intent on my chopping. "He is. We both are."

"I practically lived on dry toast when I was pregnant. Can I make you some?"

In some ways, I can't blame her for the things she said. They're the same things that others must be thinking. Heck, I've wondered about some of them myself. Instead of snapping out another curt answer, I decide to extend a branch of friendship and forgiveness.

"Mmm… yes, please. Got any peanut butter? Ooh, and bacon bits?"

 **A/N: Got my Tuesday update in just under the wire. Phew! Hope this longer chapter makes up for the late hour. It was a busy three-day weekend, and also my son was in the county spelling bee this morning. He didn't advance, but still did great. He went out on 'recompense.' ;)**


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

I'm on my second piece of peanut butter toast, water is on for tea, and Olive and I have settled in at the kitchen table by the time Christian and Matt appear, both dressed in running clothes.

"Oh! The race…" I say sheepishly, face-palming my forehead.

"You two look pretty cozy," says Christian, eyeing us still in our robes. "You just want to stay here?"

"Mmm," I answer. "Is that okay?"

"Of course," he says, gauging my expression - and seeing that I'm really fine - they each grab a banana and a water bottle and head out.

And then Olive and I talk - really talk - and she apologizes again for jumping to conclusions, for assuming the worst about both of us. She really is warm and funny, and I can understand why Christian was so persistent about holding on to her friendship. I mean, we may never be _besties_ , but I think we can co-exist.

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Two months later…**

 **CPOV**

I check the time and smile to myself. Four-thirty, and Ana should be just finishing up the last cross-country practice for the season. She has a few athletes who will go on to the state meet in a couple of weeks, but today was the last practice - for the girls to turn in their uniforms and help pack up equipment.

By the time I gather my things and get out to the track, the girls have all left, but I can see that the door to the storage shed is propped open. _Perfect._

The small shed houses mostly track equipment - the high jump cushion, the hurdles, and so on, but the few cross-country supplies - cones, devices for measuring distances, and time clocks are stored here in the off-season. I push the door open quietly and am rewarded by one of my favorite views - my wife's fine ass in a pair black running tights as she's bent over, counting a stack of bright orange cones.

"Mrs. Grey," I growl, using my best authoritative voice. "What are you doing in here after hours?"

She lets out a little squeal of surprise, and pops up, her blue eyes wide. _Yes, baby, I want you caught off-guard and flustered. It's perfect for what I have in mind._

I catch just a hint of a smirk before she drops her gaze, and when she speaks her voice is timid, unsure. "I'm sorry, _Sir_. I was just taking inventory of these - er - cones."

"And did you come up with the proper number?"

"No _Sir,_ there are supposed to be twelve here, but there are only eight."

"Do you mean to tell me," I ask quietly, slowly approaching her, backing her into a corner, "that you have lost _four_ cones?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry Sir," she whispers, keeping her eyes down.

"What are we going to do about that?" I demand, and reach out to put a finger under her chin, to make her look at me. "Take it out of your paycheck?"

"I dunno," she answers back, this time her eyes meet mine and her voice is stronger. "Maybe you should take it out of my flesh."

"Very well. As you wish," I growl, and grasp her arm, spinning her so that she flops facedown into the soft, waist-high high-jump cushion. "You drive me crazy, Mrs. Grey," I scold. "Do you know how long I've wanted to take you like this? How long I've sat and fantasized about your ass in these pants when I'm supposed to be working?"

"No… I didn't know," she gasps out. "How long have you felt this way?"

"Forever," I growl, and yank down her running tights, bringing her cotton panties with them. I circle one hand on her bare ass cheek, it's warm and smooth, and she squirms a little under my touch. "Be still. I'm going to spank you four times, Mrs. Grey - _one for each_ _cone that you've lost_ \- and then I'm going to fuck you. Hard. Do you understand?"

She nods her head, her chestnut ponytail bobbing up and down. _Oh, my wife really is adorable._

 _Stay in the scene, Grey!_ "Tell me you understand."

"I understand," she squeaks, holding still this time. Good girl.

"Count, Mrs. Grey." And I lift my hand and bring it down hard - _smack!_ \- against her right buttcheek.

She lets out a little moan, and I know it's more from pleasure than pain - or from that combination of _both_ that she loves. "One."

I spank her three more times, alternating sides, then lean down at kiss her where my hand last made contact, smiling at how her pale skin has pinked up. She's quiet, but breathing hard, and I know her heart is pounding in her chest - like mine - in excitement and in anticipation of what's coming next.

I quickly unfasten my belt and open my pants, freeing myself - I'm beyond ready for this, my dick rock-hard and throbbing in anticipation - and I know she is too. _My girl never disappoints._

I position myself without even reaching in to test the waters with my fingers. I can feel her warm moisture on my tip as I grip her hips with both hands and slide home, balls deep in my wife - er - Mrs. Grey, the naughty teacher, that needs to be taught a lesson of her own. _Naughty Mrs. Grey._

I pull back and thrust into her again, and I swear I hear her teeth knock together as she's pushed forward on the slick fabric of the cushion. That's it… take it, Mrs. Grey. Over and over I thrust and I can feel her legs starting to quiver, her walls starting to tighten around me. I take one hand from her hip and grab her ponytail, and drive myself deeper… harder… and then we both detonate, and she cries out my name - _my first name_ \- as she comes.

"Christian! Oh God…" she sinks deeper into the cushion as all of the energy leaves her body, becoming a giggling puddle of _Ana._

I chuckle along with her as I pull out, lean down and kiss her back before crawling onto the cushion beside her, pulling her into me. She rolls onto her side and wiggles closer, her soft body fitting into the curve of mine perfectly.

I run one hand up her bare thigh to her hip, and then slide it around to cup her belly. It's firm and round, and I rest my hand there, hoping to feel our son move. Ana is twenty weeks now, and last week's ultrasound confirmed my premonitions - our little boy would be arriving in four short months.

"How was your day, Anastasia?" I whisper, running soft kisses up her neck.

"Long, but looking up," she sighs.

"Has our little man been kicking today?"

"He was… until you fucked us both into submission," she teases.

I sigh and breathe in her scent, apples - mixed in with sweat and the unmistakable tang of sex. I could stay here, with her, in this stuffy little shed forever.

"We better get you dressed, Mrs. Grey," I say, rolling over and sitting up with a sigh. I tug her running tights and panties back up, stand up to fasten my pants and belt. "God forbid someone should come and see why this door is still propped open."

She giggles and slides down off the cushion, reaches up to smooth her ponytail. She looks relaxed and happy, but then I see her face change, her smile disappearing as she remembers. "And we've got a flight to catch," she murmurs.

"Yes," I say, taking her hand and leading her out of the shed, waiting while she locks up. We walk to the SUV in silence. Gulliver is boarded at a kennel, and our bags are in the back. Being former military, Ray called in favors and worked his connections until he secured us an early court date. Ana won't be able to fly in another month, and I'm grateful to Ray that she won't have to make the 17-hour car ride to Santa Barbara.

The downside is that instead of spending our Thanksgiving week in Colorado, as we'd hoped, we'll be spending it in court. And I'll have to watch my wife face her fears, and that fucker Jose. And as much as I dream about leaping over the railing and pounding his face into something resembling my mother's meatloaf, I know that all I can do is watch. _And be there for her._

 **=/=/=/=**

 **APOV**

I dig my toes into the sand and lean back against my husband, staring out across the water as the sun sinks below the horizon. Christian surprised me with a little beach getaway for the weekend, renting a cozy beachfront bungalow instead of the standard hotel room that I was expecting.

We arrived late Friday night, and have spent the last two day just being lazy - lounging on the deck, walking on the beach, collecting seashells. It'd be perfect except for that I actually have to face the reason why we're here in the morning.

I know my new name is on the court paperwork, and I assume that Jose has seen it - _Anastasia Grey_ \- not Rodriguez, or even Steele. But beyond that, I don't know what he's been told, how they've prepared him for this upcoming week. I've met with the lawyer that Ray found for me twice, and he's assured me that all I need to do is tell the truth. I know that, as a non-citizen, he should not see US Soil as a free person ever again, but there's this teeny bit of fear that he'll get free and come for me.

"That's not going to happen, Ana," Christian whispers, his chin resting on my shoulder.

 _How does he do that?_

"I can feel you tensing up. He's not going to get to you. Just relax, baby."

 **=/=/=/=**

My breath catches in my throat when they lead him in. He's clad in an orange jumpsuit, his hands cuffed in front of him. He looks… I'm not sure. Older? His face is thinner and drawn, his chin covered by a scruffy goatee. His dark eyes dart around them room, and then find mine, and our gazes lock for just a moment before he's forced to turn and take his seat.

I don't know where it comes from, but I have to choke back a sob, my throat tightening as I swallow. I feel Christian's arm tighten around me, hear him ask if I'm all right. _Am I?_ I honestly don't know how I feel. That man up there is not who I've been picturing all these months - the monster who stood above me with a whip, who took advantage of the power he held. And all I can think of is the boy - _my friend_ \- that he was at the beginning. The way his sexy dimples would appear when he smiled, his compact and muscular body against mine… the way that he knew what I needed.

And I realize that I'm sad and angry - for both of us. _How did it come to this?_ And I wish that I could go back and warn those two kids in his dorm room, urge them to choose different paths.

 **=/=/=/=**

It's over. I did what I came here to do, telling the truth about how I had no idea about how he falsified documents, and helping to seal Jose's fate. Now we just have to wait for the verdict and the sentencing, which should come tomorrow or Wednesday.

I lay back on the soft bed in our bunglow, let Christian remove my pumps and rub my aching feet. He's quiet as he works on one foot and then the other, giving me time with my thoughts and feelings.

Some of today was satisfying - watching Jose's eyes widen as I approached the stand, my gray dress clinging to my figure and my diamond wedding set - significantly larger than the one he'd paid for - glinting on my finger. And I know that I look good - healthy - a far cry from the skinny bundle of nerves that escaped from his grasp in Panama.

But mostly, the day was sad and disheartening… and long. Listening to lawyers squabble over things that I didn't really understand. Watching Jose's shoulders slump lower and lower with each accusation.

I came down here wanting vengeance - wanting _blood_ \- wanting Jose to pay for what he did to me. And now? I don't even know what I want anymore. And so I just lie in my husband's arms until the room fades to darkness around us.

 **=/=/=/=**

 _Ring… ring… ring… Ugh, someone turn off the alarm._ I feel Christian's body roll away from mine, and then a croaky "Hello?"

Not an alarm ringing, but my phone. I crack my eyes open, see that it's barely light, and squint at the red numbers on the bedside clock. 6:48. _Who is calling at the buttcrack of dawn?_ My throat is dry, a nasty taste in my mouth from not brushing my teeth. I don't even remember falling asleep, but somehow my dress is gone and replaced with one of Christian's tee-shirts.

"What?" He says, his voice sharp and agitated. I see Christian's body tense as he begins to pace, shoving one hand through his hair, listening to the tinny voice on the other end.

"What? Who is it?" I mouth, but even though he's facing me, it's like he's looking right through me.

"Yes… yes, I see. All right. Yes, I will let her know... Thank you." Christian disconnects the call, and finally his eyes connect with mine, but his face is ashen.

"Christian. You're scaring me. What's wrong? Is it my dad? Your family?" My chin is starting to tremble as horrible scenes swirl through my head. _Car crash… bodies in a ditch. Heart attack… my dad white and still on a gurney._

"No. Sorry…" He comes over quickly and grasps my hand, and for once his fingers are cold against mine. "It's Jose."

"Have they reached a verdict already? Are they ready for sentencing? Why did they call so early?"

He shakes his head. "There won't be any sentencing, Ana. Jose's dead."


	28. Chapter 28 - Happy Ever After

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

 **CPOV**

" _There won't be any sentencing, Ana. José's dead."_

Her fingers tighten around mine, and I watch her face as she registers the news. "What?" she finally gasps out, needing to hear it again.

"They found José dead this morning… one of the custodians discovered him in the laundry room."

"Did he - I mean, was it -" She shakes her head, unable to say the word. _Suicide._

"The director of the prison was the one who called. He doesn't have all the information yet, but he said he was - beaten up. It looks like foul play."

She nods, but she's not looking at me. She's just staring off into space, and I can _hear_ her thinking.

"Ana, NO…" I say. "I know where your mind is going and - you can't go there. Even if he did - _take his own life_ \- it's not your fault."

Ana's phone starts to ring again, buzzing angrily from where I tossed it on the bedside table. The caller ID comes up and screen reads _Ray._

"Ray, it's Christian," I say, answering just before it clicks over to voicemail.

"Christian, what the fu - _hell_ is going on down there?" He growls. "I just got a call -"

"We got the same call," I say, interrupting his tirade. I can picture him standing in the kitchen, bloodshot eyes, tensed shoulders. I think we're both feeling the same thing - frustration, bordering on anger. _This is was too good for that fucker._

"How's Annie?" He asks. "This can't be good for her, all of this stress."

"She's… I don't know. We're still in shock here, I think."

"I'm on my way. I'll be on the next flight," he says quietly. And then he disconnects the call.

 **=/=/=/=**

The next several hours pass as if we're in some sort of twilight zone. We just wander from room to room, out to the deck, to the beach, and back. I feed her bites of sandwich, bits of fruit, make her sip from her water bottle.

Finally, just after 2:00, there's a sharp rap on the door. Ana jumps up and runs to open it, moving faster than she has all day, and throws herself at Ray. I repress the pang of jealousy - Ray _was_ with her during the fallout after José. _And I guess sometimes you just need your dad._

Ray stands and lets her cling onto him for a few minutes, and I finally understand why he calls her his little spider monkey. "Okay, baby girl," he says, releasing his hold on her. "I finally got another call on my way here from the airport. Go wipe your tears and get dressed. We're meeting with the director of the prison in an hour."

 **=/=/=/=**

"... and that's what happened, to the best of our knowledge," says the director, folding his hands over his prominent belly.

"So… just to clarify, you think he was _murdered_ \- beaten to death and hung with a bedsheet - over a misunderstanding?" Ana asks. "So someone - probably the guard who was with him in court - told another someone offhand that I was pregnant. And that information got passed on… until eventually the rumor was that he beat his pregnant wife?"

"Yes, and in this world… there are certain crimes that can cause these men to take matters into their own hands. And this is one of them."

We all nod in understanding, or at least as far as we can come to understanding, trying to come to terms with the information.

"Now. We have a pretty good idea of the two who did this… a couple of hotheads who work in the laundry. They've been sent to solitary confinement, and… they'll be dealt with. The question I have for you all, as the next of kin, is: How would you like us to dispose of the body?"

"Excuse me? Next of kin?" Ana asks.

"Mr. Rodriguez has no known living family… and in the strange pecking order of things, being his ex-wife makes you next of kin."

 **=/=/=/=**

Later that evening, Ray and I build a bonfire on the beach and we all sit around it, watching the sparks fly up to the heavens. Ana settles in my lap, and we're all quiet, reflecting on this strange turn of events in the past twelve hours. Her body starts to shake, and at first I think she's shivering despite our layers of clothing and a heavy fleece blanket. "You cold, baby?" I ask, pulling her in closer.

She shakes her head and then I see her smile, and realize the shaking was her trying to suppress a laugh, but it escapes despite her efforts and she claps a hand over her mouth. "I shouldn't laugh, but when the director was talking about who - _killed_ \- José? I realized that two people who would have gotten the most satisfaction? They were sitting right next to me."

"Damn straight," growls Ray, and I chuckle in sympathy. _Fuck yes. In a perfect world, where prison walls and consequences didn't exist? Nothing would have brought us greater satisfaction._

 **=/=/=/=**

On Thanksgiving, Ana made huge meal for just the three of us - Turkey, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green bean casserole, and pumpkin pie. And after dinner, we walked down to the water and spread José's ashes at low tide, standing and watching as the water slowly came up and washed the evidence - of both his life and Ana's past - away.

Finally, when the water was licking at our toes, I moved up behind Ana and rubbed her shoulders, working my hands down her spine to her lower back, to her hips, and finally around to her belly, where our son shifted and rolled under my hands. I felt her body relax, let go of the tension of the past few days… of the past several months.

"Mmm…" she sighed. "I'm ready to put all of this in the past where it belongs. I'm ready for our happy ever after."

 _I couldn't agree more._ "Let's get you home, Mrs. Grey. And we'll get right to it."

 **=/=/=/=**

Ana and I parted ways with Ray at Sea-Tac on Friday afternoon, promising him that we'd be out to visit him soon. It was just getting dark as we pulled up in front of the shed, and Ana had fallen asleep before we even joined I-5 from the airport road.

"Wake up, baby. We're home," I croon, reaching over to tousle her hair.

She blinks her eyes and yawns, the fatigue from our trip apparent on her face. I almost don't want to do this to her right now, but it's too late. It's done. And it only took about 150 emails and text messages to get it all accomplished.

I get out and walk over to open her door, help her out and walk behind her to the rolling shed door. I unlock it and push it open, but let her step in first and turn on the lights.

"I'm so tired," she murmurs. "I just want to fall into bed and -" She stops in her tracks, and I peek over her shoulder, confirming what I already know.

The living area of the shed is empty, stripped of the furniture, the cabinets, and even the flooring. The only evidence of our little love nest is a few pipes protruding from the plywood subfloor.

"Christian, I think we've been robbed," she whispers.

I chuckle. "Well whoever it was did a pretty thorough job, don't you think? Come with me."

I take her hand and pull her back out of the shed, and over the rough ground to the house. When it comes into view, we both gasp in delight. For the first time, it looks like a _home_ , with lights blazing from every window.

And then, like idiots, we dash up the lighted path and up to the front door. Just before she can grasp the handle of the heavy oak door, I scoop her up and open it myself, covering her mouth with mine and carrying her bridal-style over the threshold.

She giggles, and it's the best sound in the world. And then her eyes widen as she sniffs the air. "It smells like something's cooking in here… and it smells _amazing_."

I smile and set her down, lead her through the empty dining room and into the kitchen. We're greeted by a wave of savory goodness - a huge pot simmering on our brand-new stove, and a woman with honey-blonde hair standing out our brand-new island.

I've never met her in person, but Gail Jones comes with a lengthy resume and glowing recommendations. She smiles broadly as she greets us. "Mr. and Mrs. Grey… Welcome home!"

Ana's takes her in for a moment, then whirls around and hisses at me, "You hired a _housekeeper?_ "

I pull her into me and explain that I've hired Gail on a trial basis to come in once a week, to do the deep cleaning and prepare a couple of meals for us. She looks unsure for a moment, but then nods in agreement. With both of us working, and with a new house to set up, and a baby on the way, we could use a little help. Any reservations she had were quickly put aside as we tucked into Gail's chicken stew and fresh baked rolls. _The woman was a keeper._

After dinner, we walk around the rest of the house, noting where the trees from the property were used on some of the details - the siding, the staircase, the trim. Each of the three bedrooms has built-in bookcases, and the smallest room - the one next to the master - even has a window seat. It's perfect for the nursery, and we linger in the room for a few minutes - discussing paint colors and furnishings, letting ourselves dream a little - before moving on to the master.

The master bedroom has a large bath with a soaking tub and separate shower, and a spacious walk-in closet. Like all of the other rooms, it's still unfurnished, and Ana's expression is understandably confused as we finish the tour.

"Um, where exactly are we going to sleep?" She finally asks. She had perked up with all of the surprises, and with our delicious meal, but I know that sleep is still high on her list.

"Let's go check out the guest quarters," I say, and take her hand, leading her back downstairs to the second flight of steps leading to the lower level. Because we're situated on a hill, the lower level has full-height windows in the front, and we've discussed finishing the space 'someday.'

I flip on the lights at the bottom of the steps, and I can't help but grin. _It's perfect._

Ana squeals, "It's our shed!"

And it is. Our little love nest has been reconstructed here, fitting perfectly in one half of the lower level. The bed, the kitchen set-up, _our table_ , and even the flooring and the bathroom are the same. We'll be able to stay down here while we're furnishing and decorating the main house.

"You said you wanted to invite family here to stay, and we're quickly filling all the bedrooms," I tease, walking us across the room, pulling off my clothes as we go. She laughs and does the same, and we leave a trail of discarded clothing from the bottom of the stairs to the bed.

She lies down first, watching me with those blue eyes as I remove my boxer briefs. And then I settle into my favorite place in the word, between her thighs. I cover her with my body and feel our hearts beating together as one.

"Welcome to your happy ever after, Mrs. Grey."

 **The End**

 **A/N: Thank you so much for joining me in this journey over the past three months! There** _ **will**_ **be an epilogue - possibly in multiple parts - so keep your pants on and keep following me :)**


	29. Epilogue - Part One

**Epilogue - Part One**

 **Late February - 2018**

 **APOV**

"Ocean Front... Permafrost… Breezy Blue… What do you think, Christian? Christian. CHRISTIAN!"

My incredibly handsome, dreamy husband now looks incredibly... glazed-over. He snaps his attention back to the array of paint colors in front of us. Back to the fifty shades of blue. "Huh? Those all look good, baby. They're all light blue. Isn't that what we came here for? Light blue paint?"

"Yes, but they're all different. This one has more green, this one more gray… They set different tones for the room. See?"

He doesn't see. "I thought we hired a decorator for this. Tell me again why we're shopping for paint?"

I put my hands on my hips and push my belly out to emphasize why we're here. "Because we're _six week_ s away from having this baby. And the paint color in his nursery could affect his whole life. It needs to be _stimulating_ , but restful… _fun_ , but peaceful. It's important for his brain development and his sense of well-being -" _Oh God… I'm getting emotional here. Just breathe, Ana._

"So you're saying that having too much gray tone in the paint could affect his development." Now he's smirking at me.

"I'm nesting, okay? Fuck off and go find a can of primer," I snap. _So maybe I went a little over the top on the paint thing. It's entirely possible that I had a tiny hormonal overload here in the paint aisle at Home Depot, but he doesn't need to know that._

I work my way around the display, grabbing a few more paint chips - maybe Caribbean Blue is the answer… ooh, or Carefree Sky. Carefree is a good thing, right? It's open up his little mind and -

I stop short because suddenly I am face-to-face with Olive. No. No I'm not. I'm belly-to-belly with _her_ \- our rounded waistlines practically touching. Her hair is longer - pulled back into a ponytail, with just few tendrils framing her face. _Natalie._

Her green eyes widen as she recognizes me, and I can see her trying to line up the 'high school' Ana with the 'now' Ana.."Ana? Ana Steele?!" she squeals. "What a surprise… and look at you… all grown up! Are you living around here now?" Her face is open and friendly, and she's ready to chat and have a little catch-up.

Oh. My. God.

She doesn't know. She has no clue about me and Christian. With all of her meddling and judging, Olive has not said a word to her. I start to frantically send my husband subliminal messages. _Stay in the primer aisle… Stay there… Stay._

"Um yeah… for the last nine months or so? Over on the east side of the lake?" _Stay, Christian… Stay._

Her brow furrows and she leans in, lowering her voice as if letting me in on a secret. "You know, Christian and I aren't together anymore. I'm re-married."

You don't say. "Oh. Wow, and so... you're - um - expecting too? Congratulations," I manage to squeak out. _Stay… stay._

"Yes… eight weeks to go. We're having a little girl. Small world, huh?"

 _Ohh you have no idea_ … and it's getting smaller by the second. I manage to smile and say, "Six weeks… um, a boy," before I feel that familiar tingle up my back. And I know he's right behind me. _He didn't get my messages!_

Natalie's eyes move from my face up to his and the surprised look is back. "Christian! What are you -"

 _Say we don't know each other… it's just the three of us here by random chance… Wow, what a coincidence!_ I feel him move closer into me, curl his body protectively around mine, and put one hand at my waist.

"You're… you two… you're together?" She gasps, trying to comprehend what she's seeing.

"Um, it's a long story -" I begin to say, but Christian cuts me off.

"Whatever you're thinking, Natalie, it's in the past now. We've both moved on and we're both happy… We're getting what we both wanted so badly, even if it wasn't in the way that we expected."

I watch her face carefully as she chooses her next words. Honestly, she has every right to be pissed. To call us out and cause a scene right here among the paint chips and the orange-aproned employees. She wavers on the precipice of wanting justice and revenge for several moments, but I see her body deflate with acceptance.

She reaches up and swipes a tear from the corner of her eye, and I do the same. I know… hormones. I feel you, girl! She sighs and says with a little giggle, "I _am_ happy… even if Henry didn't come with me to pick out paint chips for the nursery."

 _Henry? Oh, I like that name… but I quickly file it away as one of the names_ not _to use for future children._

Christian begins to trace little circles with his fingers at my sides and says, "Oh but the paint color is so important… I always say that setting the right tone is so crucial for early development."

I smirk at his musings, as if he didn't just storm off in frustration to the primer aisle!

"But really, Natalie, congratulations to you and Henry… When Olive told me, I was so surprised… it really made me question my fertility until -" He looks down pointedly at me.

She cocks her head in thought again, and then says, "Olive didn't tell you that she was an egg donor for me? It turns out that mine are… questionable."

 _Oh my God… she really was trying to break us up. Olive is back on my shit list._

"No," he growls, and I know he's thinking the same.

After an awkward exchange of goodbyes, we all part ways, leaving the decision between Icy Shores and Tropical Splash for another day.

 **=/=/=/=**

 **Three weeks later…**

 **CPOV**

I peer out of my office window, taking note of the darkening skies. This is the first day of a new track season, and of course we're blessed with this _lovely_ mid-March weather. I pace around my office for a few minutes, fighting the urge to intervene. Ana has been determined to kick off this new season, her first as a coach, in these few remaining weeks before our son arrives. And no amount of arguing, or I admit - _whining_ \- from me was going to convince her to step aside early and let the assistant coach take over.

So, I doubted that some dark clouds were going to make her willingly miss a precious day of practice. Finally, hearing the wind starting to pick up, I can't take it anymore. I grab my rain jacket and head out to the track.

At first, I can't distinguish her from the group of teenage athletes gathered alongside a short series of three hurdles. But then one of them with tight black leggings and a long, chestnut ponytail turns sideways and - there she is. More precisely, there _they_ are - my wife and son. And the shiver that runs through me has nothing to do with the rapidly dropping temperature.

In spite of my frustration that she's still out here - about to get rained on - I feel that warm tingle of pride and love that surges through me every time I see her, especially after a long day apart.

Even though we work in the same building, and everyone knows we're married and obviously - _doing it_ \- we've been extremely careful to keep our _affections_ out of the workplace. We had to endure a very uncomfortable _disciplinary session_ with a red-faced Cal, who had come to find out why the shed door was open that day in November. Let's just say that we were lucky to come out of it with our jobs. And that we've all agreed to - literally - shut the door on it.

As I approach the group by the track, I can see their expressions and body language more clearly. My wife is gesturing madly, passionately trying to explain the importance of forward momentum over the hurdles. And the girls look - bored, unimpressed, even defiant. I know that they are used to being left to their own devices, used to doing things their own way.

I know that Ana can feel me approach from behind her, that she can feel a tingle up her back before I even touch her. I place my hands on her shoulders and greet the girls, who have turned their attention - and their glares - to me. "Ladies," I greet them. "Good afternoon. And how is the first day of practice going?"

The blonde in the center of their cluster - Caroline? No, _Caitlyn_ \- is obviously the leader. She's accustomed to running things and getting her way. She reminds me of Ana's friend, Kate, when she flips her braid over her her shoulder and huffs, "We're just trying to run our drills before the rain hits."

I tighten my grip on my wife's shoulders. "Did you know that _Coach Grey_ here was one of the top hurdlers in the country? That she ran for UO? That she was scouted by the Olympic Committee?"

Caitlyn's eyes narrow as she considers this. She doesn't have the nerve to say it out loud, but her body language screams disbelief and says, ' _no way_.' The half-dozen or so girls surrounding her shift nervously, wavering in their decision to stick by their leader.

"Come," I say, and recognize too late that I've used my Dominant voice, the pitch and tone of it lower and sharper. It does have the desired effect, however, as they all fall in line and follow me off the track. I call out to the rest of the groups to bring it in, that practice is finished for the day, as fat raindrops begin to land all around us.

I lead the small group - Ana and the seven hurdlers - inside and to my office, where I fire up my computer and search for the file I want. As it loads, I gesture for them to gather around in front of the monitor. And then, there she is on the screen… _my girl_. It's part of a training video released by the NCAA, and this is a clip of one of Ana's races during her last season at UO. She was number one in the nation, being followed by everyone, the Olympic Committee included. Her face is intent and focused, staring down the line as she takes her position.

The starting pistol fires, and they're off… Ana in her UO green taking and holding the early lead. She flies over each hurdle, her body a textbook example of speed, power, and efficiency. After she surges across the finish line in first place, I tear my eyes away from the screen and look over at Caitlyn. Her defiant expression has been replaced by a look of shocked awe. I grin and look over at Ana, expecting to see her grinning back at me.

But she's not smiling. She's still staring at the screen, her expression wistful with a bit of... sadness? Regret?

I know that she's happy, that she's content with her life. She wants to be my wife, Teddy's mother, a teacher and coach. But what about her dreams? She's helping me reach mine, making my life come full circle.

And right then I resolve to do the same for her. And the seed of an idea takes root.

 **A/N: Thank you for your patience! I needed to take a step back, let the characters in this story talk to me again. Hoping to have Part Two - the final update - up next week!**


	30. Epilogue - Part Two

**Epilogue - Part Two**

 **Late July - 2020**

 **Olympic Stadium, Tokyo, Japan**

 **APOV**

I can't hear the pounding of my heart over the roar of the crowd, but I can feel it slamming away inside my chest, underneath the red, white, and blue spandex. I inhale deeply, forcing air to fill my lungs, and take a moment just to soak it all in. I scan the spectators that line the arena, knowing that I won't be able to see them. But at the same time, I know they are there. My two favorite fans… my boys, Christian and Teddy. Teddy is nearly two-and-a-half, too young to remember all of this, but he's old enough to enjoy it. I can picture him now, held firmly in his daddy's arms, waving his little American flag. He's Christian's little mini-me, which I both adore and envy. I mean, why wouldn't I want a duplicate of my favorite person on Earth? But at the same time, I did all the work and it doesn't really seem fair. Surely the next one will look like me, right? I shiver of nervous excitement courses through me at the thought of _the next one_. Am I ready for that again?

 **=/=/=/=**

 _I eye my husband's beautiful profile over the giant mound of my belly. He's frowning a little in concentration as he rubs my feet, working his thumbs over my arches, circling and squeezing… I close my eyes and think of other things I'd like him to circle and squeeze. We've been inventive, found ways to pleasure each other in the past weeks, but now I'm three days past my due date and feeling every second of it._

" _You know, I was just thinking…" he says casually. Too casually. I know this is something big._

" _That an orgasm at this moment in time could bring on labor?" I ask. As scared as I am about the prospect of actually birthing this child, I hate the idea of staying permanently in this state even more. At this point, I am ready to try anything._

 _He chuckles. "As much as I'm willing to entertain that idea, no… that's not it." He releases my foot, setting it gently on his lap, and runs both hands through his hair. Both hands - this IS serious then. "I was kind of waiting to bring this up after the baby comes, but it seems like that might never happen," he teases._

" _Shut. Up." I say, feeling both amused and irritated. "What is it? Spit it out already."_

" _I've been talking to some people about getting you a tryout… for the 2020 Olympic team," he says, the last few words spilling out in a hurry, as if he wasn't sure they'd come._

" _Haha… very funny. I've never been in better shape for it," I laugh._

 _But his face is serious. He's not laughing with me._

" _You have got to be joking, Christian. Look at me!" I say, exasperation starting to creep in as his words sink past the surface. "And you know that was my dream. This is so not funny."_

 _He rolls his eyes, picks up my other foot, and begins to massage it. "The Tokyo Olympics are a year and a half away, Ana. They won't even start serious team training for another six months. One of the coaches is at the University of Washington and he said -"_

" _Wait," I say, holding up a hand to silence him. "You're serious."_

" _YES," he says, taking his turn to sound exasperated. "And it would mean taking a sabbatical next school year, but we feel like with the proper training, you could be ready."_

 _Oh. My. God. And there it is - peeking through all of the reasons 'why not' - my dream. And it's as bright and brilliant as the smile on my face._

" _Great," he says, "That's decided. Now let's get this kid out so you can get training. About that orgasm…" he says as he crawls up my body, turning me on my side and scooting me to the edge of the couch as he slides in behind me. The fact that we're both wearing a pair of his loose-fitting sweatpants helps, and he's able to quickly bare the necessary parts, thrusting inside me within seconds._

 _My yelp of surprise turns into a moan of pleasure as I push back against him, no words needed as our bodies take over, racing to a climax that comes almost too quickly. I cry out, biting down on his forearm to stifle my scream, when I feel it. From deep inside me, there's a distinct 'pop' and then a rush of warm wetness between us._

 _We both freeze for a few seconds and then he whispers, "Did you feel that?"_

" _Um, Christian?" I giggle. "I think you broke my water." A creeping tightness burns bright across my middle, bringing my giggles to an abrupt halt. Oh fuck… here we go._

 **=/=/=/=**

The echoing blare of an announcement brings me back to the present. I can't make out the words, but there's an aide approaching me, gesturing me onto the track. I step onto the pristine surface and eye the starting line that's several yards in front of me. I'm flanked by runners from other nations, their colorful uniforms matching their countries' flags.

 _Brazil… England… Australia... Jamaica…_ Whether I make it to the medal podium or not, this Olympic experience has been out of this world. I was made to be here, having risen from the ashes more than once. I'm a fighter. I smirk at this - Christian took to calling me his _little fighter_ for an annoying few months, until I threatened to punch him out as well.

 **=/=/=/=**

 _I look down at my body and it's as it was before - slim and toned - as I line up to take the hurdle in one fluid motion. It feels amazing as I fly through the ear, effortless and weightless._

 _Ding dong._

 _I land - light on my feet - and bring myself to a stop. Why is there a doorbell out here on the track?_

 _Ding dong._

 _I peel my eyelids open and - shit - it was all a dream. I heave myself up and off the couch, into a standing position, looking down at my baggy clothes that hide my one-week postpartum body, checking to make sure I haven't sprung a leak from anywhere. My muscles protest at the movement. The most grueling workout or race has nothing on twenty hours of labor. Or on delivering an eight pound baby boy with a perfect head. And by 'perfect' they mean big and round._

 _Ding dong._

 _My eyes dart to Teddy who's - thankfully - still asleep in his bassinet, little legs pulled up and little hands tucked under his chin. My heart swells in my chest, just at it does every time I look at our boy. But I swear to God, he is the most beautiful when he's asleep, and if whoever is at the door wakes him up…_

 _I shuffle as quickly as possible to the door, running a hand through my sleep-mussed hair as I go. Where is Christian, anyway? He said something about chopping wood earlier, but it's all a fog. A fog of crying, diapers, and every bodily fluid imaginable._

 _Before the unannounced visitor can ring that damn bell again, I wrench open the door. And it's her. The one with the shorter hair. The lying, sneaking, bitch with who-knows-what agenda. And she's on my porch, smiling widely, holding a baby blue and white gift bag. Olive._

 _Her eyes widen as she takes in my appearance. "Ana! Congratulations… Um, is this a bad time?"_

 _And something inside me snaps. Like it literally tightens into a coil of rage and then springs free. And it springs free in the form of my fist pulling back and then connecting with her stupid face. As if from outside my body, I watch her head snap back, her body reeling from the impact. I see Christian appear around the corner of the house, an axe in his hand._

 _The three of us just stare at each other for several long moments. And then reality starts to filter in. I hit someone. I hit HER. Olive looks as shocked as I feel, her hand rising in slow motion to cup her cheek, which is already starting to turn a bright red. I look from her to Christian, who looks more amused than anything, a smile starting to tug at the corners of his mouth._

" _It's okay, Christian," I hear myself say. "I got it. No need for the axe."_

 **=/=/=/=**

The announcer's voice breaks through again, and I hear it begin to starting to read off our names. I hold my breath, still unable to believe that it's all real, until I hear, "Representing the United States of America, Anastasia Grey."

I raise my hand and wave, knowing that - somewhere in this vast crowd and in little pockets far across the ocean - my friends and family are waving back. And just as clearly as my face - smiling broadly - flashes onto the big screen here in there stadium, and on countless screens around the world, I see flashes of my life up to this point.

A broken girl with a father, best friend, and drop-dead coach to anchor her. A bright career that was plunged into a darkness of fear and punishment. A new beginning and another chance, one that brought all of the elements together into one, beautiful whole. My husband's gray eyes, sometimes soft and sleepy, other times dark with lust. Always full of love. Our son's gummy grin, one tooth breaking through. His giggle as he took his first steps, his throaty little voice saying his first words.

Laughter. Tears. Pleasure. Pain. Family. _Love._

I walk forward, settle into the starting blocks, ready my mind and body to spring forward and make all my dreams come true.

 _Toes on the line, eyes on the prize. And GO!_

 **A/N: Thank you so much, everyone, for coming along on this ride with me! I'm already cookin' up the next, so make sure to follow me and stay tuned! XO**


	31. Chapter 31 (correction)

Sorry for the confusion, everyone! I mixed up the twins in part 2 of the epilogue. Olive is lying backstabber that got punched by Ana at the end.

It's fixed now... just FYI.

As always, thanks for reading! XO


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